


A day

by MnM_ov_doom



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Dismas is a shy lovable idiot, M/M, Reynauld is a problematic child, also virgin Dismas, and I am here to deliver, and a lot of fluff, and did I mention the fluff?, mentions of child abuse, of course there is sex, the world needs fluff and love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnM_ov_doom/pseuds/MnM_ov_doom
Summary: After facing and defeating the Heart of Darkness, Reynauld and Dismas find themselves a new quest: the quest for a home, where they can live together at peace and forget the horrors they have seen.





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> I've started playing this VERY FRUSTRATING GAME and I decided it needs fluff and love and all those idiots deserve to be happy.  
> I have a soft spot for Reynauld and Dismas, so here they are. I might go after the Flagellant next. >:3c

Dismas is always the first to wake up because he is the only one who can hear the faint singing of the blackbird outside every morning. He groans, annoyed, and attempts to hide his head under the pillow. He knows damn well it’s _too early in the morning_.

Too bad, the pillow is stuck and well stuck by Reynauld’s head. Reynauld, sleeping like a rock, a blessed soul who had never had the need to develop such warning systems like waking up because of birds in the distance.

Grumbling curses against the blackbird, Dismas figures that, since he can’t sleep anymore, he is going to do the exact same thing he does every morning, when the blackbird wakes him up and sleep flees away only to return at night. Carefully, he turns around, holding gently the heavy and muscular arm draped around his waist, and is now facing Reynauld, who still sleeps peacefully.

Even asleep, the knight is a stunning sight. Big and broad and muscular and scarred, though only Dismas knows the exact extent of those scars. Now that is summer, Reynauld’s pale face and arms are tanned, since he wears a short-sleeved mail; the rest of his body remains naturally pale, and oh, Dismas sure loves to make fun of Reynauld’s farmer’s tan.

With a smile on his lips, Dismas raises a hand to caress Reynauld’s sleeping face. His skin is smooth - thankfully the knight never grew a beard again and Dismas traces with special care the scars on Reynauld’s chin that gave him the possibility to see the knight clean-shaved – and his features are sharp. Stretching his arm a bit more, Dismas manages to reach Reynauld’s short light copper hair and run his fingers through it.

Reynauld mumbles something in his sleep and lets his mouth hang open. Dismas’ smile widens and he has to fight the urge of touching the knight’s lips, kiss them, wake him up, make love to him. Who would say that the two strangers, so different from each other, that met on the Old Road a couple of years ago, would turn into _this_?

Outside the blackbird sings again and the first sun beams make their way through the closed interior wood shutters. With a sigh, Dismas snuggles closer to Reynauld and places a hand over his heart, feeling the soft and rhythmic beating. Highly reassuring, and the highwayman snuggles even closer to Reynauld:

“Who would say, Rey…” he whispers, looking up at the knight’s face and placing a soft kiss on Reynauld’s chin. Lovers, is what they are. And they almost didn’t live to acknowledge that.

 

 

_How ironic, Dismas the highwayman inside a carriage…_

_The whole situation bothered him deeply; his coffin-like means of transportation, the ridiculous speed at which said means of transportation travelled, the nightmarish swamps and forests the carriage carried him through… and the silent, eerie knight sitting across him._

_A crusader, one of those self-proclaimed holy men who were as criminal as Dismas… and some even more. A bascinet that had clearly seen lots of action hid the crusader’s face, a heavy hauberk protected his body and, covering the hauberk, a battle worn tunic. A couple of pouches hung from his belt, but the most impressive item was certainly the scabbard of his longsword. One of the crusader’s gloved hands rested on the sword’s pommel, while the other, on his lap, held a rosary._

_The wind howled outside. The wind… and something else, but Dismas preferred to believe he was just nervous, on edge, and that made him hear dangers that weren’t in fact there. But in the carriage? A deafening, smashing silence._

_But suddenly, the frenzied neighing of horses, and a crash!, and another crash!, and the carriage was rolling down a hill, sending both Dismas and the crusader up and down and sideways, making them collide against the spartan interior of the carriage and against each other._

_The falling carriage came to a sudden halt when the carriage hit the ruins of a wall._

_Panting and dizzy and sore and tasting blood in his mouth, Dismas remained lying still for a while, on what was actually the ceiling of the carriage. Next to him, the crusader groaned and tried to push himself up, only to fail and fall flat on his stomach again with a metallic thud of his hauberk. Seconds later, grunting again, the crusader managed to push himself up and stumbled to the carriage’s door; the window was broken, but some miracle had granted the door the ability to survive the fall. Sadly, said miracle didn’t save the door from breaking when the crusader kicked it open and fell face-first outside, his momentum having caused him to lose balance._

_Dismas simply crawled outside and the knight, who had stood up again, almost stumbled on him:_

_“The horses…” he heard the crusader grumble and stood up, pressing a hand over his sore skull. “With the horses… we’ll complete our journey faster.”_

_But the horses were nowhere to be seen… and so was the madman driving the carriage. Gone. Dismas was slightly relieved about the missing horses; he had no idea of how to ride on horseback, and the sheer size and power of a horse scared him. Besides, travelling on horseback in such a dark weasel – was it dawn or dusk? – didn’t seem wise; anything could scare off the horses, brigands would easily pull them down their mounts…_

_“Seems we’ll have to go on foot,” Dismas stated and looked uphill. “I’m not so sure about going by the road, though…”_

_“Roads exist to take us to our destination,” the knight argued and began to climb the hill, the slight zig-zag motion as he walked giving out he was still a bit dizzy. Dismas was no better, and he grudgingly followed the knight; going on the road was stupid… but going through the forest, alone, was even more:_

_“There are many dangers on a road,” Dismas told, because he knew them all. The knight stopped to look at him, and the highwayman couldn’t help but feel a shiver as the dark visor, so cold and inhuman, stared right into his eyes:_

_“Nothing will break me!” he hissed._

_And the moment the two of them stepped on the road… a band of armed thugs attacked them._

 

Reynauld frowns in his sleep and begins to whimper.

Dismas sighs and holds the knight closer, but not tightly. He knows Reynauld is having nightmares, and now he knows better than forcing him to wake up. As cruel as it sounds, it is preferable to let Reynauld wake up by himself, yelling or crying, and then embrace him tightly and give him comfort:

“Just… stop touching me…” Reynauld whimpers and rolls on his back, shaking his head, repeating the same sentence over and over again, louder and louder, until he is screaming and sits abruptly, panting and crying, muttering imperceptible things. Dismas is quick to pull him back to his embrace and Reynauld immediately hides his face on the crook of the highwayman’s neck, taking in ragged breaths.

Dismas knows Reynauld was mistreated by his father and by the priest in charge of his education. The knight had told him that when they became more intimate, but only more recently, after leaving that cursed estate behind, had Reynauld given details of what had happened to him. Dismas is still surprised that the crusader has let him _this close_ , and he still wants to somehow resurrect the wrongdoers just to kill them again, slowly and painfully.

No words are said. The crusader doesn’t need them, and the highwayman isn’t good with words. Gestures are enough: soft caresses, reassuring kisses, a tight embrace, a seductive bite on an earlobe. Soon enough Reynauld calms down and rests his head on Dismas’ naked chest, looking up at him with reddened, puffy brown eyes, shiny with moist. In the dimness of the room, Reynauld’s eyes seem to be pitch-black. Reynauld sighs and plants a kiss over Dismas’ heart.

They have time, now.

Every morning is like it’s their first time together; they look at each other, they trace scars and muscles with featherlight touches, and every touch is so gentle, and nothing is rushed, and they pose and expose themselves for each other to see. Reynauld blushes everytime, and Dismas feels appreciated like he had never been before. They have time, now, and make good use of it. They can lick, and nibble, and scratch, and whisper sweet things and make promises. Reynauld can be as loud as he wants.

 

 

_Crusader and highwayman arrived to the Hamlet is the middle of a lively argument, because they had actually made an excellent teamwork in finishing their assailants… but the crusader had taken all the valuables, and the highwayman had nearly missed the expert theft._

_Just like Dismas suspected: a holy man who was as criminal as him._

_Their argument died down, however, as the desolate and ruinous buildings of the Hamlet surrounded them, broken windows staring at them sternly and empty streets amplifying their initially heated argument. Even the statue, standing tall in the middle of the square, seemed to disapprove of their loud arrival._

_Dismas still couldn’t figure out if night had fallen already or if the day was heavily clouded. The veil of fog hovering above the ground and above the rooftops contributed to Dismas’ confusion._

_The Hamlet appeared so empty, so dead._

_Silently, together, but still resentful, highwayman and crusader looked for a place to stay._

 

 

Reynauld leaves a trail of kisses all the way down from Dismas' forehead to the lower half of his abdomen, where the highwayman has left the bedsheet in a useless attempt at modesty. Dismas hums in satisfaction and lifts his hips slightly in anticipation. But Reynauld just chuckles against his skin and lazily pushes himself up:

“I have to muck the stable and feed Ironfeet.” The knight excuses with a hint of tease. Every day is the same thing, and every day Dismas groans in dismay and presses his palms on his eyes:

“Rey…” he begs, even though he knows it’s useless; Reynauld is going to muck the sables and feed his horse, while Dismas prepares them a bath.

In silent teasing, both slip into old clothes, Dismas opens the bedroom window and both of them leave the bedroom in separate directions; Reynauld heads to the small stable built next to their little cottage and Dismas heads to the kitchen, where he uses the manual water pump to collect water to heat in buckets by the hearth. When the water is hot, he takes it back to the bedroom, where a large wood tub is standing against the wall beside the door. Dismas puts the tub down and fills it with water, right when Reynauld is back stinking to horse and dirty hay.

 

 

_Barely a week after arriving to the Hamlet, Dismas began to be accused of theft. Random adventurers in the tavern, on the streets, in the barracks would come up at him, yelling, insulting, threatening, demanding to have their things back. Dismas wasn’t a man to lose time, so he didn’t make an effort to defend himself against such accusations because he was innocent, and thought explaining his innocence to those people would be wasting time._

_Only one person remained quiet and didn’t accuse him: the crusader, and Dismas knew it was him who was behind all of that. Like he thought, just another criminal, and the highwayman decided he did not want anything to do with the crusader._

_There was one night when a hulking Bounty Hunter dragged Dismas outside the tavern, accusing him of having stolen a pair of knives. The Bounty Hunter meant no good, and the highwayman was ready to defend himself, though he didn’t need to: the crusader materialised between him and the Bounty Hunter, his longsword unsheathed and ready to strike:_

_“Leave the highwayman,” the crusader ordered. He too was big and broad, but the Bounty Hunter was more. Still, something about the crusader – maybe his commanding voice, maybe his fighting stance, maybe both things combined – eventually dissuaded the Bounty Hunter, who reluctantly walked into the tavern again._

_The crusader turned around to look at Dismas, and the highwayman felt the same unpleasant shiver as he looked into the knight’s dark visor. They were practically the same height, but Dismas was slender:_

_“Why don’t you tell them it’s you, tin man?” Dismas growled and stepped back, a hand instantly reaching for one of his daggers. However, the crusader said nothing, and simply lowered his head and walked away._

_On the eve of the first departure of the newest group of adventurers – Dismas, the crusader, a vestal and a plague doctor – the missing items appeared gradually in the course of the day. Everyone praised the bounty hunter, who apparently had intimidated the highwayman to the point of forcing him to return the stolen items._

 

 

“You stink…” Dismas complains as he eagerly pulls old clothes off Reynauld:

“You stink more,” Reynauld replies as he eagerly pulls equally old clothes off Dismas, then kneels in front of the highwayman, maintaining eye contact all the way down. Dismas swallows and holds Reynauld’s head with both hands, running his fingers through short hair. Sometimes Dismas still can’t believe Reynauld, a nobleman, a crusader, so imposing, does this for him.

And Reynauld kisses Dismas’ abdomen, slowly, teasing, ignoring Dismas’ arousal begging for attention. He takes time, because they have time, to whisper more sweet things, make more promises, scratch softly the inside of Dismas thighs and hold his legs firmly to support – the two of them. And finally, when Dismas is whimpering, Reynauld takes him in his mouth slowly, whole to the base, and makes wonderful things with his tongue that make Dismas gasp and beg and pull the knight's hair quite painfully.

 

 

_Much for Dismas’ dismay, the crusader would also steal things while the group was camping in the dungeons. That man was a menace: he would break the group’s frail trust in each other and deprive the various members of the group of resources._

_Even Dismas, who didn’t dare to approach the crusader, noticed that his whisky flask was missing!_

_But he had to admit, the crusader was a very good fighter, clearly very experienced. The longsword seemed to weight nothing as he swung it back and forth, up and down, left and right. The knight should naturally be a heavy man, and certainly his hauberk was heavy, but the way he moved was gracious, flawless, effortless. He did not give out how those monsters scared him and had proclaimed himself the leader of the group, a very competent one. Yet even so, Dismas’ and the crusader’s first adventure was a complete disaster, and only the two of them survived with somewhat concerning injuries._

 

 

By the time Dismas finishes Reynauld, the water is tepid. They sit in front of each other, their legs tangled under the water. There are satisfied smiles on their faces, and their droopy eyelids suggest a nap would come in handy, even though they have just woken up.  Dismas leans forwards, making room for himself between Reynauld’s legs, and rests against his chest. Reynauld smells of soap now:

“I love you,” Dismas says and steals the crusader a kiss.

“And I love you too, Dis,” Reynauld replies and raises a hand to stroke Dismas’ cheek affectionately.

There’s a knock on the closed door and a female voice, highly amused:

“Sir Reynauld? Master Dismas? Are you decent?”

“No, and by now you should already know we’re never decent, dammit!” Dismas replies and makes no effort to move away from Reynauld and make himself decent:

“Sir, I’ve saddled your horse!” The woman says again:

“Thank you, Marigold,” Reynauld replied, and he too makes no effort to make himself decent:

“You could come up earlier and muck the stable as well…” Dismas grumbles loud enough. On the other side of the door, the woman laughs:

“I don’t get paid for that!”

“What do you mean?? I pay you in candles!” Dismas exclaims, outraged, making Reynauld chuckle. “Also, get out of there, Marigold! We’re naked and wet and not done yet!”

“Dis!!” Reynauld blushes and sinks deeper into the tub, embarrassed, as on the other side of the door Marigold laughs like a maniac.

* * *

 

Little later Reynauld and Dismas leave the bedroom, the first wearing a black tunic over the short-sleeved mail, the spurs on his boots clinking with every step, and the latter wearing a light tunic, breeches and boots. Reynauld is carrying his sword belt in a hand while the other hand brushes Dismas’ as they walk to the front of the house, past a barn door, to a wide room that is Dismas’ candle shop. The shop’s door and windows are already open and the two men go outside.

The morning is fresh and the sky is clear, blue and bright over their heads. The day will grow hot and the sun, peeking over the horizon, will shine with blinding light. Not far from their house the small village is still asleep but, in the top of the hill, in the small castle-like manor, everyone is getting ready for Reynauld’s arrival: every day, Reynauld rides to the manor to train the guards; thrice a week, he takes Dismas with him, so that the guards know both blade and gun. But today Dismas is staying at home, in his shop.

Marigold, a young chubby woman with freckles and red hair, an authentic tomboy, is patiently holding Reynauld’s horse, a magnificent black horse, all muscle and strength and speed. The horse beats its ironclad hooves on the ground, impatiently, urging its master to hurry up. Reynauld eventually arrives near the horse and gives it a friendly pat on the neck, then another friendly pat on Marigold’s shoulder:

“So… I guess I’ll go inside!” she chuckles and walks away when Dismas reluctantly takes her place to hold the horse for Reynauld. The horse is big and Dismas doesn't like it. The men wait until Marigold disappears inside the shop – she’ll be lurking at them by the window, they know – to kiss goodbye, then Reynauld puts on his helmet and climbs with elegance to the saddle.

Words aren’t needed and they hold hands for just a few more couple of seconds, until Reynauld spurs his horse to gallop towards the village, up the hill and into the large yard of the manor.

Dismas watches the knight go and can’t help a smile; Reynauld, his knight in shiny armour, definitely looks good on horseback. And the knight is gone for just a minute, and Dismas already misses him, and is already daydreaming of Reynauld coming home at sunset, and of helping him out of his mail, and of making love with him and of falling asleep together.

With a sigh, Dismas turns around and walks to his little candle shop.


	2. Noon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you nice people for the comments and the kudos!! ;D I feel the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, now!

_The Sanitarium, like the entire Hamlet, was a depressing place. Dark and cold, because there was only one large fireplace per room. Rooms and halls and corridors were haunted by the agonizing screams of the wounded, of the dying, and even of those on the way to recovery. The caregivers had the niceness of automats, they did not smile and did not give kind words; they simply appeared, did whatever there was to be done and left. One day they would tell you to go away, because someone else needed that cot._

_Dismas couldn’t tell for how long he had been lying in that cot, in the last row, in the darkest and coldest place of the room. Maybe that explained why his wounds were taking so long to heal? He would like to simply stand up, leave and hide in the tavern, a much warmer place, and at least there he had something to drink more interesting than water – more interesting didn’t mean tastier, though – and would be able to eat a poor meal that was nonetheless more comforting than the cold stew the caregiver gave him._

_To make things brighter, one morning the crusader crouched next to his cot; a most lively sight, with that bascinet of his:_

_“I’m allowed to leave this place, now.” He informed, and handed Dismas a small flask. “I’m sorry… I took it.”_

_“Yeah, I’d like to know how…” Dismas grumbled and snatched the flask from the crusader’s hands. The movement made him pull the stitches on his injured side, and he swallowed down a pained whimper. The crusader began to fidget with his rosary and somehow shrank into his hauberk:_

_“I’m sorry… I… I can’t control it… It’s not me…” he excused, and Dismas rolled his eyes:_

_“Of course, it’s your evil twin…”_

_The crusader seemed to understand Dismas wanted nothing to do with him, because he simply stood up and walked away._

_Some days later and it was Dismas’ turn to be free. The first place he visited were the barracks, where he had left his very few belongings inside a chest at the head of his cot. Fortunately, nothing was missing, and feeling in a much lighter mood Dismas made his way to the tavern._

_The tavern was the gathering place for most of the adventurers. However, Dismas noticed with a frown as he emptied a pint, the knight was never there. How could he drink and eat, then? If the crusader didn’t go to the tavern, it could only mean he used to steal food and drink as well. Indeed, that knight was a menace to the public, and Dismas, despite wanting nothing to do with the crusader, made it his own quest to find the crusader and his stash and force him to return everything and go into the tavern like a normal person. Not to mention that Dismas had never actually seen the knight at the barracks… _

_Dismas figured that the knight, being a crusader, had probably chosen the abbey to be his lair. And to the abbey Dismas went, but upon finding the building, he seriously considered himself a fool and thought about going to look for the knight somewhere else: the abbey was a decaying building, built with dark stone; the top of the tower and part of the roof had collapsed and the windows and door had been shut with boards nailed together. But someone, someone big and strong and fanatic had **punched** their way in, leaving a hole that was more than enough for Dismas to get through._

_The knight was, in fact, in the abbey. He was knelt in front of the broken altar, among debris. He probably didn’t hear Dismas – he moved swiftly with light steps – but if he did, he gave him no attention. When the highwayman was standing right behind the crusader, he cleared his throat:_

_“So, this is where you hide,” he said, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the crusader turned around while standing up, abruptly, already pulling his sword out of its scabbard. But he stopped the moment he realized it was Dismas, and let go of the sword’s hilt:_

_“I do not hide. I seek answers,” the crusader growled from inside his bascinet, and Dismas shrugged:_

_“You hide here the stuff you steal, too?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, and the knight tensed his shoulders:_

_“I am not a thief, not by nature…” the crusader said, slowly. “Unlike you, highwayman.”_

_“Hey hey, no need to be offensive!” Dismas snickered at his own innocence; had he really thought he could do something about that? Had he really cared? Dismas wasn’t used to caring anymore. He would not waste more time with that knight. He began to walk away, always looking at the tense knight, who began to shake his head:_

_“I’m sorry…”_

_“You say that a lot, but are you really?” Dismas stopped and slipped his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Just think about it; one day someone will discover your little secret, and maybe they’ll stab you in the back and make it look like you’re simply another casualty from those dungeons.”_

_The knight’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword again and he stepped forwards. Dismas gave two steps back:_

_“Is that a threat?” the knight hissed, and Dismas shrugged:_

_“Take it as one, if you wish…”_

 

 

 

Dismas frowns, because he has just brought the honeycombs in and Marigold hasn’t made a daring attempt at stealing one to eat. They are behind the shop counter; the shop and the workspace to make the candles are in the same room, so that Dismas can keep an eye on his candles and on his costumers, make more candles, teach Marigold and prevent her from burning down the entire building:

“So, did Thomas invite you to the ball this Sunday?” he asks casually, drops the honeycombs into a big metal tub of boiling water but saves one, that he breaks in two and extends one half to the young woman. She smiles and takes her half of honeycomb, but there isn’t as much joy in her smile as Dismas is used to:

“No, he was taking too long, so I asked him… but he’s taking Jeanne…” Marigold says and shrugs, humming in appreciation as she chews a bit of honeycomb vigorously:

“I’ll take you, then. No, better; you’re going with Reynauld, and you’ll be the only girl in the ball dancing with a true knight,” Dismas decides, appreciating his own bit of honeycomb. He stirs the melting honeycombs with a long wooden spoon and checks if there are still solid pieces:

“That’s really sweet, Master Dismas! Thank you! But…” She and Dismas wrap their hands in rags and move the tub from the fire to the stone floor. “… don’t you want to go to the ball with Sir Reynauld?”

“And get my feet smashed by his? No way!” Dismas chuckles, because the thought of him and Reynauld taking over the dance floor is so ridiculous and amusing that he might actually consider try to convince Reynauld to give it a try. “Besides, I can’t dance. But Reynauld can, and he’s very good at it.”

“So, he won’t step on my feet?” Marigold asks and Dismas shakes his head. They walk to a workbench, where a neat pile of almost finished candles is waiting; they are going to roll them on the solid wood surface to make the candles smooth and regular. Marigold eagerly begins the task at hand, and like always Dismas is afraid that one day the girl will simply smash the to-be candle:

“No, he won’t.”

“But he’d step on yours?”

“Yeah, because that’s how Reynauld is.”

 

 

_Truth is, missing items continued to disappear and appear. The few inhabitants of the Hamlet and the adventurers weren’t so sure about Dismas being their thief anymore, because there was a week things vanished and appeared again while the highwayman was in the dungeons._

_When the knight and the highwayman found themselves in the same party, the tension between them spread to the occultist and antiquarian who were coming with them, and that was enough to doom the mission from the beginning: the antiquarian was the first to go, mainly because she disobeyed the crusader’s order to stay in the rear-guard with Dismas; and the occultist was the second to go, because from the swarm of skeletons the crusader dealt with singlehandedly, one managed to bypass him and apply a mortal blow on the occultist.  Knight and highwayman proceeded by themselves, even though the crusader began to show some disturbance, blaming himself repeatedly for the occultists’ death and mumbling religious things Dismas didn’t care about._

_Dismas and the knight managed to return with some valuables that would certainly interest the Heiress, but Dismas only made it back because for some reason, completely unknown to him, the knight had willingly played the role of human shield as Dismas, in the heat of a battle against a monster, ran out of gunpowder and was momently frozen with fear, completely forgotten about his two daggers._

 

 

A costumer enters the shop and Dismas leaves Marigold alone with the to-be candles for moments. When he comes back to the workbench, the young woman asks, quietly:

“Is it nice? To have someone? Mom says I must find a future husband…”

Dismas sighs and rolls again a candle the young woman has deemed perfect, but that in fact isn’t:

“It’s nice as long as you’ve got the right person, I guess… I don’t know, I’ve only been with Reynauld.”

“That’s so cute, Master Dismas!”

“We’re not cute, Marigold…” Dismas shakes his head disapprovingly, because they are not cute, and the circumstances that made them who they are weren’t cute either. “But… we understand each other. And I think that’s what hitched us in the first place. And you shouldn’t try to find someone just because your mother told you so,” He puts the candle aside; now yes, the candle is decent. He reaches out for another one, and gives Marigold another one to work on as well. She looks at him attentively, clearly giving him more attention than to the candle. Dismas seriously doubts Marigold will ever be a decent candlemaker, but he likes her, likes her enthusiasm and friendliness, likes her cheerfulness and the pride she has in wearing breeches instead of skirts or dresses. She reminds him of the adventurous women he and Reynauld met in the Hamlet, and he is glad saddling up Reynaul’s gigantic horse and candle-making are enough of adventures to her, and that he can keep her out of trouble for the time being:

“Mom says you’re a bad influence, but she fancies Sir Reynauld!”

“I have yet to meet the person who doesn’t fancy Sir Reynauld and thinks I’m a good man…” Dismas grumbles with exaggerated aggravation, and that makes Marigold laugh, loudly and ungraciously and genuinely, and Dismas is pleased that he can cheer up his apprentice.

 

 

_The day after returning from yet another failed excursion, Dismas had an unexpected visitor at the tavern; the knight sat on the free chair in front of him, across the table, and handed him his whisky flask. Dismas’ permanent frown deepened; the sneaky bastard, he must have taken it while helping Dismas the day before!_

_“I’m sorry…” the knight sighed, and he sounded genuinely ashamed. Immediately he stood up and walked out of the tavern with large strides. Dimas hesitated for a moment, then swallowed down the rest of his lunch and darted off after the knight:_

_“Hey, tin man!” he called, running to catch up with the knight, who was already by the central square. Surprisingly, the knight stopped and looked at Dismas, who stopped at a certain distance, just to be sure his flask wouldn’t be stolen again. “Thank you… for yesterday…”_

_“You are a valuable warrior, highwayman. I could not let you die like that…” A pause. “I’m afraid I failed our companions, though…” And with that, the crusader left towards the abbey._

_At night, Dismas saw the crusader in the tavern again. Sitting alone while eating a soup and bread, and his visor was lifted. Moved by sheer curiosity to finally take a look at the man’s face, Dismas went to join him, carrying his own bowl of soup and piece of bread. He sat across the crusader, who simply stared at him. His eyes were sunken and a messy light copper beard hid the knight’s lower face; the crusader clearly didn’t care much about himself, even though he kept his mail and sword in excellent conditions. They ate in uncomfortable silence, minding more their food than each other’s company._

_A muffled moan was heard from upstairs and the ceiling creaked ominously. Dismas shook his head:_

_“Someone's having the time of their life…” he commented, mostly to himself:_

_“Is this place always like this?” the knight asked, but even with the visor lifted his voice was deep and rough. Lack of use, probably. Dismas shrugged:_

_“Crowded?”_

_“Loud…”_

_“I don’t know… I come here to drink a bit and eat, then I just wander around…” The knight seemed surprised, and that made Dismas roll his eyes in annoyance. “I don’t gamble, not anymore… I’m not lucky. And I don’t go to the brothel, I don’t want to catch a disease…”  And it was simply unnatural for him to sit still in the same place, and to have all those people around him._

_“Seems you are not a well of sins, after all!” the crusader exclaimed in a clumsy attempt at being pleasant:_

_“Well, you’re not a well of virtues, are you?” Dismas grunted, and the two men stared at each other in silence. The tension was back. Dismas sighed and began to drum with the tips of his fingers on the dirty and greasy table top. “Sorry…”_

_The knight nodded and the tension eased._

_On the opposite side of the tavern, the barman laughed. The sound startled Dismas and the highwayman turned around on his chair to look at the man, surprised:_

_“A missing chunk of cheese was found again…” the crusader explained._

 

 

“I think it’s ready!” Marigold exclaims, pointing excitedly at the tub with wax. Dismas, now sitting at the counter expecting for clients, glances over his shoulder with a frown that is just for show:

“It’s going to be ready tomorrow…”

“Then why making it this early, Master Dismas?”

“To be ready tomorrow, for sure! It’s called planning, Marigold, and you don’t need to get a future husband! You just need to use your head!”

“That’s why mom doesn’t like you, she says you shouldn’t back me up,” the young woman explains and comes to sit on the stool next to Dismas’. “I like you. And I like Sir Reynauld too, but you’re definitely my favorite!”

“You could come earlier and take care of that monstrous horse of his…” Dismas tries, for the umpteenth time, to convince Marigold. But the girl shakes her head vehemently:

“I don’t want to face Ironfeet before breakfast! Have you seen how big it is? Can you imagine it impatient and hungry? Must be terrifying!” Dismas huffs. “You should be proud, I’m using my head!”

The highwayman can’t reply that. Little later another costumer comes in, and he lets Marigold handle the situation. The girl is skilled with people, much more than he will ever be, but if Dismas isn’t watching, she might as well forget the customer’s change or worse, might be given less money and not even notice it.

He allows himself to smirk and thinks about how lucky that girl is; she has a family, a home and what most people would call a job, but for Marigold is pure fun and entertainment. She is lucky, and Dismas wonders if things would have been different, had he had the same luck as Marigold. Maybe they would have, and maybe he wouldn’t have met Reynauld. So, Dismas is happy he didn’t have luck as a young man, and that he can now enjoy the benefits of his lack of luck in his early forties.

 

 

_The crusader was named Reynauld and turned out he and Dismas managed to get along, despite everything. Reynauld was actually good company when he wasn’t stealing; he was quiet, was apparently unable to talk about anything else besides swords and fighting and strategy and tactics, and didn’t hang around Dismas, which meant that whenever Dismas was in the mood for chatting, he only needed to go to the abbey, where the knight spent most of time. Dismas wasn’t used to have people around him, so being able to maintain a certain companionship with someone else and not feeling suffocated by their presence suited him just good. Besides, the highwayman and the crusader functioned very well as a team in the expeditions; Dismas in the rear-guard, from where he could shoot at the enemy and move freely, and Reynauld in the front, protecting the group and barking orders, since he was the one experiencing immediate contact with the enemy._

_In fact, their expeditions became more successful as they managed to move further into the dungeons and bring more and more valuables. For that, they were frequently requested._

_However, in one expedition, a gigantic brigand bloodletter managed to engage in a single combat with Reynauld, who was exhausted from a previous encounter with a numerous horde of undead soldiers. Each member of the party was busy with their own brigand foe, but Dismas was the faster to finish his opponent and the first to see Reynauld desperately trying to deliver a fatal blow on his gigantic opponent. Dismas reloaded his pistols with the intent to help his comrade, but as he aimed Reynauld managed to make a serious injury in one of the hulking brigand’s legs, and the gigantic man fell on his knees. Dismas lowered his pistols and was about to look around and see who else needed help, and that was when he saw, by the corner of his eye, the brigand take hold of a big rock and jump at Reynauld with it, despite the wound in his leg. And the brigand hit the rock once, twice on the side of Reynauld’s head, and the knight fell to the ground. That was when Dismas aimed again and shot the brigand._

_With the most concerning enemy dead, Dismas trotted to Reynauld and knelt next to him:_

_“Hey, tin man!” he called, but the knight was unconscious. The left side of his bascinet was severely dented, and blood dripped slowly from the breathing holes and from under the bascinet._

_The expedition was over and the group hurried to return to the Hamlet. Dismas, despite being slender, was sufficiently strong to carry Reynauld on his shoulders._

_He took the knight to the Sanitarium, and with Reynauld he left his small flask of whisky._

_Dismas went to check on Reynauld two days later and was surprised to find a beardless man, probably as old as him, in the cot where he had seen the caregivers lie the crusader:_

_“Tin man, is that you?” Dismas asked, approaching the knight slowly. The crusader, despite having been placed near the fireplace and being covered in furs, was shaking with cold. Certainly, a fever. Reynauld looked up at the highwayman, and Dismas understood why the knight’s face had been shaved clean; he had a horrendous gash on the left side of his face, on the jaw. The wound had been stitched, but it looked bad and the bone had certainly been broken. There were also minor scratches and bruises caused by the dented bascinet._

_Reynauld nodded, slowly, and smiled despite the wound and stitches. That was the first time Dismas saw the knight smile. If he had already smiled before, the chaotic beard had covered it. With a huff, Dismas sat cross-legged on the floor, next to the knight:_

_“I have your flask, but I don’t remember taking it…” Reynauld slurred, and, slowly, pulled a hand from under the furs, holding Dismas’ flask. The highwayman chuckled:_

_“I left it with you. To keep you company,” he said. And to have an excuse to go visit the knight, other than plainly visiting him: retrieving a missing item seemed more logical than being interested in Reynauld’s well-being._

_Reynauld’s smile widened, and he reopened a cut in his lower lip. He looked good without the beard. He didn’t look defeated, and certainly looked more approachable. He had good teeth, sharp features and brown eyes. One of his eyes was heavily bruised and so swollen the knight could barely open it:_

_“If you tell me where’s your secret stash, I can leave your share there,” Dismas offered, frowning and looking away from the knight’s face. He had been staring. He didn’t like to stare at people:_

_“You’re a highwayman, Dismas… Do you really think I’ll tell you where I keep my possessions?” Reynauld slurred again, clearly animated by the unexpected visit:_

_“Stuff you steal, you’re no better than me…”_

_“I return everything…”_

_“The tiny whetstone I use for my daggers has been gone for a while.”_

_“Ah, you noticed that…”_

_They chuckled, despite everything. Reynauld let out a pained hiss and calmed down immediately, closing his eyes:_

_“You saved me, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly in a quiet whisper. Dismas’ frown grew bigger and he hid a little in his scarf:_

_“Wouldn’t leave you there, would I?”_

_“You’re a good man,” Reynauld paused again. A drop of blood rolled down, lazily, from the stitched wound. “Why are you even here?”_

_And with that, Dismas jumped to his feet and strode out of the Sanitarium and straight into the tavern, where he spent most of his hard-earned money in foul drinks; it scared him, that Reynauld had made him such a personal question, and it terrified him the small banter they had shared._

_Dismas found Reynauld again days later, by accident; he actually bumped on the knight when turning a corner. He was surprised to see the knight out of the Sanitarium this soon, because the crusader was clearly feverish. But Reynauld was standing, with his destroyed bascinet under his arm, and his face was still shaved-clean and the wound in his jaw was still very horrible:_

_“Dismas,” he saluted, and he was still speaking with a slur, and the highwayman presumed his jaw must hurt terribly. “I’m… going to the black… smth… blacksmt…”_

_“You should be in the Sanitarium, why did they kick you out?”_

_“Oh… I… I left.”_

_Dismas had to confess; Reynauld was a hero for simply walking out of that dreadful place. Smirking, he shook his head and tilted it in the direction of the blacksmith’s workshop:_

_“I’ll go with you.”_

_Reynauld smiled again._

_After having the bascinet fixed, Reynauld allowed Dismas to convince him to stay at the barracks instead of staying at the abbey. Just until the fever was gone and his wound didn’t look infected anymore. When they got to the barracks, the place was empty apart from the two of them and a leper, and Reynauld sat on an unclaimed cot next to Dismas’, who sat on his:_

_“Where is everybody?” Reynauld asked curiously, and the highwayman looked at him like he had grown a second, bearded head:_

_“The tavern… the brothel… the guild…”_

_“Is there a guild??” Reynauld’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and Dismas found himself grinning like an idiot, utterly amused:_

_“Where have you been all these months, tin man?”_

_“In the abbey, of course!” Reynauld smiled again, enthusiastic. “We must spar one of these days!”_

_Dismas felt slightly nervous and looked away. Now that he thought about this, he should have left Reynauld go back to the abbey. The knight’s proximity and growing interest on him and on doing things with him made him uncomfortable. It was… suffocating._

_Reynauld probably understood that, because he raised his hands in a sign of peace and his smile died:_

_“I mean… Pardon my intrusion. Both of them, actually.”_

 

 

 

“I think I’ll make us lunch, now!” Marigold announces and jumps to her feet. It’s too early to cook lunch, but Dismas knows Marigold can’t stay quiet for long. “Shall I make dinner for you and Sir Reynauld too?”

“Nah, I’ll take care of that, thanks,” He can do that after properly welcoming Reynauld. Dismas knows that, by then, they will be too tired to cook anything and will end up eating cheese with bread. The last time they attempted to make a proper dinner, Reynauld dumped the vegetables for the soup into the pan **unpeeled** (bringing a rock among the potatoes), claiming that he could totally handle dinner and Dismas could rest a bit. Dismas had thought it sweet and moving because he wasn't used to have someone do simple and pleasant things to him, until Reynauld proudly served him the soup.

Dismas smiles fondly:

“Hey, Marigold!” he yells to the back of the house. “Have I told you about that time Reynauld tried to make soup?”

 

 

 

_Dismas found himself avoiding Reynauld. Fortunately, the knight didn’t look for him, wouldn’t eat at the tavern with him and, in the barracks, wouldn’t talk to him. The distance Dismas imposed them somehow unsettled him, but he thought it better than feeling suffocated._

_They went in a new expedition, going to a dungeon where no one had ever been. The monstrosities they found, the time the expedition was taking and the tension between Reynauld and Dismas leaded the highwayman to stress easily and faster than anyone in the group. Reynauld showed evidence of being through difficulties as well, but it wasn’t him who had to be knocked off several times for posing a threat to the group, and it wasn’t him who succumbed to his own madness in the middle of a fight against cultists and had to be rushed out._

_Dismas couldn’t remember any of that, and that explained why he was so confused when he woke up, at night, in the Sanitarium. This time, he had been placed near the fireplace. His confusion grew when he saw Reynauld sitting on the floor next to him, trying not to fall asleep:_

_“What am I doing here?” Dismas mumbled, startling the crusader. Reynauld looked at him, sleepily, and he looked very tired, like he had been there for more time than he should. His face was still clean-shaved and the wound in his jaw was finally turning into a healthy scar:_

_“You… you were irrational,” Reynauld finally told, quietly. His voice was deep, but soothing. “You mentioned some things…”_

_No…, Dismas thought and rubbed his face with his hands. He felt angry; Reynauld had nothing to do with him, with his past. He wanted to stand up and leave; if Reynauld had done it, wounded and feverish and in pain, so he could do it too! But his limbs didn’t want to obey him at all, and he was weak and sluggish, probably from something the caregivers had given him:_

_“I never did things accidentally…” he heard Reynauld mutter, his voice still very soft. Dismas moved his hands away from his face to look at the crusader, who was fidgeting nervously with his rosary. When he looked up at the highwayman again, with half of his face lighted by the nearby flames and the other half in complete darkness, he carried a somewhat devoted expression, reverent, even. “I had the power to stop all those atrocities... but... I did nothing. I played along. I think… I think you will find your redemption much easier than I will ever do.”_

_Dismas was stunned. He expected judgment. Especially from… from a crusader. But that judgment never came, and Reynauld simply stood there by his side, fidgeting with his rosary and avoiding eye-contact. Perhaps the knight was right, when he had said Dismas wasn’t a well of sins. Dismas didn’t consider himself a bad man at all; even though he was a bandit, he had rules, morals... like leaving alone defenseless women, children and elderly. He was able to feel remorse and somehow try to make up for what he had done. He couldn't be completely bad, deep down he knew it... yet he wasn't expecting someone to know that as well. The highwayman felt a sudden comfort, totally alien to him. Alien, but it wasn’t bad at all. Maybe… maybe he didn’t need to push away the knight. They were a good team, after all. Maybe they could spar together in the guild. Dismas had seen how some of the adventurers, complete strangers in the beginning, had formed friendships. Dismas hadn’t have friends since he was a child, and he couldn’t remember how it felt like. It scared him in a way, compromising to trust the knight. But if Reynauld meant any harm… he had had plenty of chances, and had done nothing._

_He looked at the knight again, and cleared his throat:_

_“You look tired. Take my flask,” he said, quietly. “You can return it tomorrow.”_

 

 


	3. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you nice people for leaving feedback! ;-; I'm fueled by feedback.  
> I hope I haven't screwed up and that you like this chapter!

_Sparring with Reynauld made Dismas realize the knight was someone to be in good terms with. Reynauld was a brute, even in a fake-fight, and he was very skilled and took a long time to start showing signs of exhaustion. Despite his size he moved quickly, and Dismas, who was much lighter than him, found it very frustrating that Reynauld could beat him in close quarters and in hand to hand combat:_

_“You must keep moving!” Reynauld told him for the umpteenth time that day, after managing to throw Dismas on the floor… again. “You become an easy target once you stop!”_

_Dismas would not say out loud that Reynauld was faster than him. Taking advantage that the knight was momently distracted lecturing him about the importance of movement, he hooked both feet around Reynauld’s ankles and pulled his legs vigorously. And oh, watching Reynauld’s arms flail hopelessly as he fell ungraciously on his backside was a most glorious thing._

 

 

 

“Move your feet,” Reynauld commands, passing by a pair of guards training sword fighting with wooden swords. The yard is busy, full with the sound of shouts and of wooden weapons clashing against each other. The day is becoming hot, but Reynauld’s training won’t be any softer just because of that.

He walks up to a makeshift jousting ground, where he usually trains the men in sword fighting on horseback. Today the jousting ground is empty, excepting for Raymond, a young man Reynauld swore to transform into a knight, even though Raymond comes from one of the poorest families in the village and by law will never become an actual knight. Raymond is short but sturdy, with blond hair and blue eyes, his face is covered in acne scars and he is currently holding Ironhooves reins:

“Today I’ll introduce you to the art of jousting!” Reynauld announces proudly, and Raymond’s face lights up with excitement; the knight has been teaching him how to ride, but fighting on horseback is a privilege of the noblemen that constituted the guard:

“Shall I get a horse from the stables?” Raymond asks excitedly, and Reynauld smirks and pats Ironfeet's head:

“No. You’re riding my horse.”

And the knight can’t help a booming fit of laughter as Raymond grows considerably pale.

 

 

_Sparring became a daily thing. At first, Dismas did it out of spite, just because he wanted to somehow throw Reynauld to the floor again. But it became something else, and Dismas wasn’t just trying to desperately defeat Reynauld, and Reynauld wasn’t just being a ruthless brute. They learned how to play together and trick each other, and Dismas learned that fighting practically glued to Reynauld’s body made it impossible for him to manoeuvre his longsword, and that this close the hauberk compromised arm movements; and Reynauld learned that, even though Dismas moved his feet out of the way, he always left an arm behind that was very easy to hold onto, and that the highwayman couldn’t do much if, when going to the ground, Reynauld stayed on top applying dead weight on Dismas. And they wouldn’t growl and grunt at each other; instead they laughed, exchanging banter:_

_“We’ve been here for months and you still don’t know how to shoot,” Dismas stated one night, when they were done trying to strangle each other. Reynauld shrugged, lying on the floor next to Dismas, sweat running down his face and clamping his short hair to his head:_

_“Your fault, you never taught me,” he replied. Dismas huffed and, holding one of Reynauld’s wrists, pulled him up. The knight sighed, amused, and stood up:_

_“You’re not getting any sleep tonight, then. I’ll make a decent marksman out of you.” Dismas said._

_He explained Reynauld how his pistols worked, how maintenance was made and why it was so important. He then proceeded to guide the knight to a beginner shooter position, so that it would be easier for him to handle the pistol’s recoil. But after a while Reynauld couldn’t listen anymore, and all he could do was focus on Dismas; the current closeness of their bodies and Dismas’ touches on his shoulders and arms and how his hands were over Reynauld’s. They were practically the same height, but Reynauld was much more athletic than Dismas. The highwayman was still speaking enthusiastically, unaware that Reynauld was looking at him instead of looking at the pistol and at the practice target ahead. Dismas had taken off his scarf and overcoat and had rolled up his sleeves, and Reynauld took the chance they were this close to take a good look at Dismas, who wouldn’t usually be seen without his scarf and overcoat: the highwayman’s face was thin and bony, with sunken eyes, a broken nose and thin lips, and there was this very interesting scar crossing those thin lips; his neck was long, with a prominent Adam’s apple that moved happily as Dismas spoke and that Reynauld found outrageously tantalizing; his arms were strong, though not sculptured as Reynauld’s; and his hands were big and large, warm, but relatively soft. The knight tilted his head when Dismas looked at him, smiling, beaming enthusiasm, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Dismas’ eyes were blue, bright and smart, and there were already a few grey hairs among his black hair and stubble:_

_“… got it?” Dismas asked and stepped away from Reynauld, so abruptly the crusader felt slightly disturbed:_

_“Of course,” Reynauld muttered, quickly looking from Dismas to the target. He did his best to aim, pressed the trigger and was simultaneously surprised at how loud the shot rang in his ears and at how strongly his hand was forced back by the recoil, hitting him in the face._

_But louder than the ringing in his ears was Dismas’ laughter._

 

 

 

“Master Dismas?” Marigold calls as Dismas joins her in the kitchen, after closing the shop for lunch. He sets the table and she brings a small iron pot with stew to the table. “When are you going to teach me how to shoot?”

“Isn’t stabbing enough for you, girl?” Dismas sits on the stool and fills Marigold’s bowl with stew. “Do you want your mother to kill me?”

“She wouldn’t do that… She wouldn’t stand a chance against Sir Reynauld!” Marigold replies dreamingly, and Dismas can’t help but laugh. Yes, Reynauld would totally kill a defenceless woman if said defenceless woman dared to pose a threat to Dismas:

“Who do you want to shoot, Marigold? Thomas?” Dismas asks with a cocky smile, and the young woman is momently speechless, caught off guard. Then she shakes her head, blushing, and Dismas concludes she has no future in the world of lies and assassinations:

“I just think it’s nice. Do you think Sir Reynauld would teach me to fight with a sword?” She is thrilled again.

“Don’t… don’t give him ideas…” Dismas hides his face on his hands, because he can see Reynauld raising an army of ladies. Just in case his men let him down…

 

 

 

_After the shooting lesson, Reynauld went missing for some days. Dismas supposed the crusader had been away from the abbey for too long, and that it should follow the same logic as aquatic animals and water. However, Reynauld’s sudden retreat hurt Dismas, and the highwayman couldn’t figure out why it hurt him… and why the knight was acting like that, in the first place._

_Reynauld and Dismas met each other again when the Heiress assembled them, together with an occultist and a vestal, to send them in a new mission. They didn’t speak while in the presence of the Heiress and their other team members, but once they were alone, Reynauld placed a hand on Dismas' shoulder and pulled him to a quiet alley:_

_“You shouldn’t go,” he said, concerned. His head was covered by the bascinet again, and Dismas had to fight the urge to yank it off the knight’s head. He was enjoying Reynauld’s company, and he couldn’t understand why the crusader had backed off. It hurt, and Dismas couldn’t understand why, and this worried him. Something was going on, something he couldn’t see. And a highwayman who couldn’t see, was a dead highwayman… Dismas frowned and moved away from Reynauld:_

_“You think I don’t have the guts?”_

_“Didn’t you hear what the Heiress said? Water, humidity! Won’t that affect your gunpowder?” Reynauld seemed genuinely concerned, and that only irritated Dismas:_

_“I’ve got daggers!”_

_“But you don’t even like hand to hand combat!”_

_“Don’t talk to me like you know me,” Dismas growled and walked away, with large strides and closed fists._

_But the environment of the Cove really wasn’t the best for Dismas’ pistols, and fighting the monsters with his daggers, which forced Dismas to be too close to the creatures, wasn’t pleasing. In the end, they made it back, all of them, alive and with minor injuries. But they hadn’t killed all the fish monsters; they had only infuriated the creatures._

 

 

 

Reynauld instructs Raymond on how to work with Ironfeet; the horse obeys voice commands only from its master, so Raymond will have to rely solely on the reins and spurs to control the massive animal:

“The trick is-“ Reynauld explains, pointing to the training dummy, a figure holding a shield that Raymond has to hit with a spear, and also holding a wooden morning star; when the shield is hit, the dummy rotates and will hit its attacker, if said attacker isn’t fast enough. “- charging.”

“But Sir Reynauld, I’ve only cantered once…!”

“And now you’ll charge.” Reynauld nods, enthusiastic, and steps away from Ironfeet. “CHARGE!”

The horse neighs and charges, its clumsy and inexperienced rider trying to keep balance on the saddle and aim the spear at the dummy’s shield. The dummy approaches at dizzying speed.

 

 

 

_After the mission in the Cove, Reynauld disappeared to the abbey again. He begged for guidance, but no sign was given to him. How could he find redemption from his wrong actions, from himself… if he had taken a most sinful interest on Dismas? It was wrong: the way he had began to look at the highwayman was wrong, the way he had started to care was wrong… It was a sin, a horrible sin, and Dismas did not deserve that._

_Reynauld was so busy praying to the Light for guidance that he jumped to his feet, startled, upon feeling a hand on his shoulder:_

_“You took my flask again…” Dismas grumbled, the lower half of his face hidden in his scarf. Reynauld looked down, clutching to the rosary in his hands. “I thought you were done stealing stuff…”_

_“I’m sorry…” Reynauld muttered and walked away from the broken altar to a nearby pile of debris. It was his former stash, but it had been empty for months:_

_“You’ve been… absent…” the highwayman said quietly as the crusader handed him his flask again. Their fingers touched briefly and Reynauld pulled his hand away, like the soft touch had burned him. “Are you hurt?”_

_“No… I… I need answers…” Reynauld looked down again and returned to his previous spot, kneeling down in front of the altar. He mentally begged that Dismas would go away, but after a tense moment of silence, the highwayman began to pace around him, his steps barely making a sound in the cold and hard stone floor of the abbey:_

_“You know I’m not a religious man…” Dismas began, still quietly, looking around. Excluding the spotlight created by the partially collapsed roof and the small beam of light coming through the door, the inside of the abbey was pitch black. What kind of comfort and guidance was to be found in such a place? “I don’t understand what kind of answer you expect to find kneeling on the floor.” Reynauld didn’t reply, so the highwayman proceeded. “Did I do something to upset you and drive you back to this place, Reynauld?”_

_“It’s not you,” the knight mumbled abruptly and forced himself to look up, to Dismas, who stopped beside him. Reynauld stood up, so that he could look the highwayman in the eye and make sure there would be no misunderstandings. “It’s just me.”_

_“I thought you were a friend,” Dismas narrowed his blue eyes. Even in the dimness of the abbey, Reynauld could see them, blue and bright, and looking into them revealed to be a mistake. Reynauld felt like he was drowning, slowly, and he was oh, so doomed… because he was drowning in the sea, and there was a storm coming. “I don’t go around trusting people like this, Reynauld! You insisted so much and now… you just walk away?”_

_Reynauld shook his head, defeated. He knew it had been a big thing for Dismas, and he had been proud that he had been the done achieving it. But he couldn’t continue to be this close to Dismas. Should he share his problem with the highwayman? Dismas deserved that; he had trusted Reynauld, so he deserved that Reynauld trusted him. Yet the crusader was scared, terrified:_

_“Reynauld…” Dismas insisted, badly contained anger straining his voice. “What the hell do you want from me???”_

_“I… I want only one thing, and it is forbidden…” the crusader mumbled and tried to step back, but Dismas had taken hold of his arm:_

_“I’m not in the mood for riddles, Reynauld,” Dismas hissed, his frown deepening, his eyes narrowing with the ferocity of a predator. Reynauld froze, looking at the hand holding his arm. And it wasn’t Dismas’ hand anymore, but the priest’s, and he knew what was coming next. He didn’t want to. He had just done his homework, he wanted to play with his toys. He wanted to be left alone. He stepped back, but the priest stepped forward, and he begged, begged the priest to leave him alone. He wanted to play with his toys, but if he had to go outside and ride his pony unsupervised, then he would do it, just for the sake of escaping the priest:_

_“I’m no Father Leonel!!!” Dismas exclaimed, outraged, and Reynauld’s head snapped up, and he saw the highwayman look at him with now wide, confused eyes. The priest was gone. It was just Dismas._

_They stared at each other in silence and, slowly, Dismas’ grip on Reynauld’s arm lost strength. Dismas went from angry to concerned, and, with a sigh, he handed his flask back to Reynauld:_

_“You… You can return it when you feel better,” Dismas said and walked away, leaving Reynauld alone in the abbey._

 

 

 

Dismas scribbles in a piece of parchment that the lavender-scented candles are sold out:

“I can go hunt for lavender, Master Dismas!” Marigold chirps happily, reading over Dismas’ shoulder. Dismas looks at her, smiling, as he comes up with an evil plan:

“You, Reynauld and me are going to hunt for lavender. Reynauld’s afraid of bees.”

Marigold squeals, delighted, and clapps her hands excitedly:

“We could make a picnic! I could bake a cake and cookies and a pie!! Are we going to be gone for long?? Are we going to camp??”

“The lavender field isn’t far from here, I’m afraid.” And Dismas gives a friendly pat on Marigold’s shoulder, genuinely sorry for ruining her plans for camping. “But… we’ll be gone the whole day. And we’ll need a lot of food, especially Reynauld. He gets really hungry when he’s stressed, and bees sure stress him.”

Marigold laughs, ungraciously and genuinely, and Dismas laughs as well, because making fun of Reynauld is almost as good as loving him.

 

 

 

_Some days later, the same party went back to the dungeons. Fortunately, not to the Cove. But that didn’t mean the foes they found were any easier or less terrifying to look at. At some point, they were attacked by webbers and spitters. The vestal panicked, chaos ensued and, while Reynauld was running around chasing the spiders, it took the occultist and Dismas to calm down the vestal and assure her everything would be fine, that she didn’t need to fear the spiders._

_And when Dismas left her with the occultist, he found that Reynauld had been bitten by a spitter and a webber was already packing him up to take him home._

 

 

 

“But Master Dismas…” Marigold says when another customer leaves. “… don’t you think picking lavenders with Sir Reynauld, just the two of you, would be romantic?”

“There is nothing romantic about having Reynauld screaming in panic when he sees a bee… No girl, you’re coming with us, you’re going to keep me company in my suffering.”

“You’ll be decent, I hope,” She winks suggestively, and Dismas blushes slightly and clears his throat, embarrassed:

“I don’t have a chance to get indecent with Reynauld when there are bees around…”

Marigold chuckles and looks down at her hands. Dismas notices that she hasn’t bitten her nails, and nods in approval. When the young woman speaks again, her voice is very soft and she still isn’t looking back at the highwayman:

“You’re the luckiest people I know. Mom and dad are always arguing over small things…”

“Arguing is normal. Reynauld and I still argue sometimes.” Dismas tells patiently, and Marigold looks back at him again. “Love does that do people… drives you crazy, puts you on edge.” Dismas smirks and elbows the young woman, nearly pushing her off her stool. “You and your husband will have your arguments, too!”

Marigold pouts with the mention to a husband her mother doomed her to find, but the pout vanishes the moment a client comes in and Dismas lets her take over the business again.

 

 

 

_They took a couple of days to return to the Hamlet. Dismas took Reynauld to the Sanitarium and, much later, when the caregivers finally took the crusader from what Dismas thought was an operation or treatment room, to one of the big rooms where the wounded were left to rest and recover, one of them told Dismas that just an hour or two later and Reynauld would have died. And even still, the knight had little chances to survive._

_Dismas didn’t know what to do, how to feel. Part of him didn’t want to care; Reynauld had been distant because he wanted to, so Dismas had no business there, by his side. But Dismas had been the first to be the lonely wolf, and Reynauld had been patient and had gained the highwayman’s trust. Besides… there was something wrong with the knight, and for all those sparring sessions, for all those good moments, Dismas felt like it was his duty to at least be there, if Reyauld wanted to talk about it._

_That, of course, if Reynauld survived._

_Throughout the day, the knight went from freezing cold to burning hot, then back to freezing cold, only to be burning with fever again minutes later. Being placed near the fire, again, didn’t help much when he  was feverish. Dismas found himself unable to leave, even though he was starving; the caregivers were nowhere to be seen, and the highwayman had to confess he was afraid of leaving Reynauld to get him help… only to come back and find him dead. Besides, he thought that pulling down or up the furs covering the crusader, - the very muscular crusader, Dismas noticed, and then was very difficult not to stare - according to his temperature, would help him somehow. At some point, the crusader began to whimper and mutter things about love and bad choices, until he finally woke up, startled, washed in sweat and barely capable of keeping his eyes open:_

_“Dismas?” he called, and the highwayman sighed and rolled his eyes:_

_“Yeah, tin man… How did you know?”_

_Weakly, Reynauld moved his left arm. Dismas had been clutching to Reynauld’s arm for a while, and the highwayman hurriedly let the knight go. There was already a bruise, and for a disturbing second Dismas thought it hadn’t been that bad to hold onto Reynauld with that much strength, though he was truly sorry about the bruise:_

_“You… you were talking gibberish… I…” he excused, and the crusader offered him a faint smile, stubbornly trying to keep his eyes open. He had never grown a beard again, and Dismas appreciated that but didn't want to acknowledge it:_

_“I… I had a dream,” Reynauld mumbled and gave up on trying to keep his eyes open. “Do… do you think that… when things happen… does it have a meaning…?”_

_Reynauld was certainly a bit delirious, be it from the spider’s poison, be it from the antidote. Sighing, Dismas took his hand and, carefully, began to trace a few random lines on Reynauld’s palm:_

_“Show me your palm.” He said, hoping his little show would calm down Reynauld’s mind and allow him to rest. The crusader forced himself to open his eyes again, and he looked curiously at the highwayman. “Hmm...luck, love, and long life!” Dismas exclaimed. He obviously had no idea of what he was doing: in one of his robberies, a wealthy gypsy had tried to get away by reading his palm; Dismas didn’t have the time or patience for it, killed the gypsy anyway but was unable to forget those words._

_Reynauld was silent, until he closed his eyes again, smiling weakly:_

_“Divination is a sin, Dismas…” he informed softly, but there was true fondness in his voice, and Dismas did notice it._

 

 

 

Dismas walks into the kitchen to fetch a mug of water for Marigold. He looks outside, through the small round window of the kitchen and, judging by the light, supposes Reynauld won’t take long to come back. He always comes back before Dismas closes the shop, so that Marigold can help him with Ironfeet and then go home and don’t be late for dinner.

 

 

 

_Divination or not, Reynauld returned Dismas’ flask and, once he wasn’t feverish anymore, went back to the barracks with him. And they went back to sparring together, and to wander together around the Hamlet, and to have their meals together in the tavern. Reynauld told Dismas a bit about himself, that he came from a family of the small nobility – hereditary knights – but that he had been made baron for his good service during the crusades, that he had married and had a son but had never gone home to see them again, because the war had changed him completely. He shared with Dismas that he regretted that, but at the same time thought it was for the best and hoped his wife had remarried a good man and lived a happy life._

_Dismas also told Reynauld a bit about himself; that he was the younger of six brothers, that his family was extremely poor, that he had apprenticed candle-making… but stealing had revealed to be quicker to give him profit._

 

 

 

Reynauld helps Raymond to climb to the saddle again. The poor young man has fallen more in one noon than Reynauld during all his years of training, but Raymond is not giving signs of wanting to give up; he is covered in dust, sweat and his helmet is getting slightly dented from being hit with the dummy’s morning star:

“You ride better than Dismas!” Reynauld tells Raymond, who widens his eyes in wonder:

“Do I, Sir??? I thought Master Dismas was a rider as good as you!”

“No, he’s afraid of horses,” Reynauld chuckles. Making fun of Dismas is almost as good as loving him.

 

 

 

_During his recovery, Reynauld concluded that Dismas could have been sent by the Light. They had been recruited by the Caretaker in the same day, in the same town; they had made the journey together; they had arrived to the Hamlet together; they had made their first expedition to the dungeons together… It was… as if something greater than Reynauld’s understanding was pushing them together. And now, that the antidote was fighting off the poison in his system, Dismas was still with him, even though Reynauld had been so distant in the last weeks. And Dismas’ words, about luck, love and a long life, made him wonder impossible ifs – even if he suspected that the highwayman had just tried to cheer him up by saying something nice._

_And that was why Reynauld couldn’t understand why, if Dismas had been sent by the Light to stay by his side during his ordeal in the dungeons, he had such sinful feelings about the highwayman._

_When Dismas joined another party to go to the Cove again, Reynauld took the chance to take refuge in the abbey. He prayed for Dismas, and prayed again for answers. Later that day a vestal joined him, and in the beginning they prayed in silence, until the crusader thought that maybe someone of the same faith as him, and even holier than him, would be able to help him to clear his mind:_

_“Sister, may I ask you a question?” he said calmly, and the vestal, kneeling by his side, nodded solemnly. “I am here in my own crusade, to take the Light to the darkest places. Including myself. But… it appears that a companion of mine, who I think was sent by the Light to aid me, is also… distracting me from the right path…”_

_The vestal looked at him in silence, then tilted her head:_

_“If there is no darkness, how do we know there is light?” she replied. “And how can there be virtue, if there are no sins?”_

 

 

 

Raymond is hit by the dummy again, but he manages to hold onto Ironfeet’ neck and doesn’t fall. Reynald nods in approval, takes a moment to look at the men fighting with wooden swords, then looks at the approaching horse and rider:

“Sir, I didn’t fall!!” Raymond exclaims, enthusiastic, and Reynauld smiles him the proudest of smiles:

“With practice, you’ll become an excellent rider. Now, Raymond…” Reynauld crosses his arms and leans against Ironfeet's shoulder, looking up at his favorite apprentice. “… about the ball this Sunday…”

 

 

_Dismas returned in one piece, with minor injuries, and the biggest trauma he suffered was when he ingenuously allowed the plague doctor to apply leeches on a gash in his arm. Reynauld was delighted to see him fine, especially now, that the vestal had given some sense to his problems. He was also curious to know if Dismas shared that same attraction, and he began to pay more attention at how the highwayman looked at him, at how he reacted when there were small occasional touches._

_They found the ruins of a fountain in the outskirts of the Hamlet and began to spend their time there, when they weren’t sparring in the guild. Dismas supposed it was early summer, because the weather was relatively pleasant and the fog now hovered only above the rooftops. They spent a lot of time sitting together on those ruins, shoulder-to-shoulder, their arms and hands touching slightly, at first occasionally, then on purpose. Dismas started it, actually, and the knight thought the highwayman, so used to be on his own, probably craved for contact, affection._

_He could give him that, if he wanted. They could make each other better, support each other further during their ordeal. Wasn’t that redemption? Becoming better and not committing the same mistakes? Finding peace? Finding freedom?_

_The problem was… Reynauld didn’t know exactly what do to. He didn’t want to scare off Dismas. He hadn’t had this problem with his wife; the marriage had been arranged by his father. All the feelings had come after. But now, the feelings where there, clumsy and maybe a bit ridiculous for a fully-grown man, but they were there. So Reynauld, summoning all his knightly courage, decided he should take the first step._

_It was supposed to be a caress disguised as a friendly pat on Dismas’ head, but as soon as Dismas leaned slightly into the touch, the mask fell, and Reynauld allowed his hand to actually caress Dismas’ thin face. And the highwayman let him do it, though looking at him with wide blue eyes, and was it fear Reynauld saw in his eyes?_

_“I assume you led a lonely life…” Reynauld heard himself mumble. He couldn’t remember thinking about something to say, he was too busy looking into Dismas’ eyes. Blue, mesmerizing, like a calm lake. Still waters run deep, and Reynauld wanted to stir those waters, dive in the lake. The highwayman just nodded, and Reynauld thumbed his cheek. The stubble felt itchy against his gloveless skin, but it wasn’t unpleasing._

 

 

 

Even indoors, the beating of hooves is perfectly audible. Marigold, who has been organising candles in a wood box, immediately leaves the candles and runs outside. Dismas sighs, finishes that for her and then makes his way to the shop’s doorway, where he stands with his arms crossed.

Ironfeet comes galloping full-speed uphill and Reynauld is standing on the stirrups, his black helmet and mail sleeves shining in the setting sun. Something hot creeps all over Dismas and he smiles, enchanted, as if seeing Reynauld for the first time. Every day he has this same feeling. His heart quickens its pace and his whole body screams with want, and he just wants to step forward, pull Reynauld down from the saddle and show the crusader what he does to him.

 

 

 

_Dismas realized he didn’t feel suffocated with Reynauld. He even discovered he appreciated the crusader’s company, and he was secretly thrilled when Reynauld returned him his flask and they went back to their routine of sparring and wandering together._

_And Dismas understood he needed it. Needed that company, needed someone to talk to, to distract him from his guilt and to hear him talk about it. Having lived alone since his pre-teens, Dismas didn’t know how to react to Reynauld’s presence, so he tried to mimic the various interactions he saw around them; friendly pats, friendly hands on the shoulders, handshakes. But when they found the ruined fountain, Reynauld began to touch him in a way that Dismas hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. And when the knight touched his face, so softly and gently, all the highwayman could do was lean into the touch, trying to remember the last time he had had something similar, but all he had left were vague memories of his mother giving a bit of affection to him._

_Dismas was pleased to see that, whatever had driven Reynauld away, had stopped bothering him. He wanted more of that, wanted to know what was that interest the knight had in him, wanted to know how he could let Reynauld know he wanted it._

_The highwayman liked to stay awaken just a bit longer, looking at Reynauld’s sleeping figure on the cot next to him. One night he wondered how would it feel like, to have Reynauld’s calloused hands touching his body like they touched his face. And have those brown eyes look at the rest of his body with the same intensity they stared at his face. Dismas felt his blood head south, and that hadn’t happened in a long time. He hadn’t had time for fantasies to distract him a bit. But now he had some time, and everyone was asleep… So, as discreetly as possible, looking at Reynauld, Dismas slipped a hand inside his breeches and underwear and held himself lightly. But Reynauld would surely hold him like… like Dismas was the hilt of his longsword, would hold him strongly and decidedly. And his other hand would probably wander throughout Dismas’ body, that calloused palm a bit rough against his skin:_

_“Dismas…?” Reynauld called, and the highwayman closed his eyes and allowed himself to sigh in satisfaction. Maybe the crusader would call him by the name, maybe - Dismas’ eyes flew open and he looked at Reynauld, still stroking himself; the knight was looking at him, sleepily and frowning. “Dismas?”_

_“Hm?” the highwayman replied eloquently, his voice rough with arousal. Reynauld was looking at him. So close to him…_

_“Dismas, what are you doing??” Reynauld hissed and shifted a bit on his cot, so that he was now lying on his side, facing Dismas with wide eyes:_

_“I… None of your business!” the highwayman hissed back. Reynauld’s body next to his, so big and muscular, and probably warm… Dismas has spent so many years shivering in cold…_

_“Are… are you touching yourself????” Reynauld looked away, embarrassed, because Dismas’ movements had grown too obvious. “That’s a sin!! You can’t do that!”_

_“Who said I couldn’t?”_

_“The Holy Scriptures!!”_

_“Did they?” The highwayman’s voice became rougher as Reynauld looked at him again, ready to argue about holiness and virtue. “Well… look at me sinning… and thoroughly enjoying my sin…”_

_Reynauld opened his mouth in shock, taking in a sharp breath. His lips parting like that and the sound he made were enough to push Dismas to his climax, and the highwayman came with a hopefully discreet moan. He doubted he had ever felt that good before._

_A leper, on the cot at the feet of Dismas’, raised his head to look at the highwayman and at the crusader:_

_“There are abandoned houses all over the Hamlet…” he grumbled sleepily. “And this place is empty during the day…”_

_Dismas blushed, even though he couldn’t help a smile. As for Reynauld, he whimpered something about the Light helping him to overcome everything and turned his back at the highwayman._


	4. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you nice people for leaving feedback!  
> Now, the final chapter: I hope you enjoy!

Dismas goes outside at the same time Reynauld stops Ironfeet in the small yard in front of Dismas’ candle shop, that is basically the front of their house:

“Reynauld, you’re taking Marigold to the ball,” Dismas announces as Reynauld is about to dismount.

The knight stops mid-action and turns his helm covered head to him. That visor, so dark and inhuman, makes Dismas’ blood rush south, and Dismas is well aware that the crusader knows he appreciates his pieces of armour more than he should.

Reynauld sits on the saddle again and offers his gauntlet-clad hand to Marigold. The young woman squeals, delighted, takes Reynauld’s hand and he hoists her up, sitting her like an amazon between him and Ironfeet’s neck:

“You shall arrive to the ball in full glory!” Reynauld exclaims, and Marigold irradiates joy. “And you are going to be the only lady going to the ball on horseback.”

Dismas has a smile too big for his face. He knows Marigold is extremely excited with the perspective of riding on horseback – a war horse, Sir Reynauld’s horse! - because she had never sat on a saddle before. He knows Marigold’s pride was built on her current ‘jobs’: saddling up Ironfeet (Reynauld taught her and Dismas still remembers how the young woman was impossibly exhilarated about that) and working in the candle shop with Dismas, so being taken to the ball by one of her idols means a great deal – she doesn’t care about the ball, but the fact that someone so important in the village like Reynauld and Dismas are preparing for her to go, and in great style, means the world to her. And Dismas knows this is the kind of thing Reynauld needs once in a while – a damsel in distress, waiting for a knight in shiny armour to save her.

Dismas’ smile falters as Reynauld offers him his hand as well, and he frowns:

“No…” he says. Marigold looks like she will explode of happiness and excitement, and Dismas sighs, defeated, and takes Reynauld’s hand. The highwayman is pulled up and sits clumsily on Ironfeet’s back, behind Reynauld, and Dismas hurriedly wraps his arms around Reynauld’s waist and clings to him for dear life:

“Dismas and I will be there to make sure you have fun,” Reynauld promises solemnly, but just the fact that going on horseback is involved, Marigold is already having fun. Reynauld spurs Ironfeet and the horse neighs and lunches forwards. Marigold laughs, delighted, and Dismas cries out something about Reynauld going to pay dearly for this.

Reynauld takes Marigold and Dismas in a small tour around their property, and even though the house and the stable buildings aren’t that big, Ironfeet’s powerful galloping and battle neighs sure make it seem much more extraordinary than it actually is.

 

 

_“Tin man, it’s natural!!” Dismas exclaimed exasperatedly and rubbed his face with his hands. It was dusk and the weather was cooling down again. They were at the ruined fountain, sitting together on a block of decorated and limy marble, and Reynauld had been telling Dismas that what he did the previous night was a bad, bad sin:_

_“It is a temptation of the flesh, and it must be fought back!” Reynauld explained patiently. “Carnal relief is allowed only in the consummation of marriage and the production of descendants!”_

_“You must have had quite a sad marriage…” Dismas grumbled, realizing too late what he said. Next to him he felt Reynauld tense up, and he hurriedly placed a hand on the crusader’s shoulder. “I mean… I… I’m living proof my parents did it… a lot… I mean… why six descendants and another one was coming…?”_

_“Deviant behaviour is expected from peasants,” Reynauld replied coldly and shrugged off Dismas’ hand. “Besides… you’re a highwayman, a bandit… what do you know about the connection between two people?”_

_It was as if Reynauld had punched Dismas hard in the stomach. But in the deafening silence that followed, the crusader ran a gloved hand through his hair, distressed, and it was his turn to lay a hand on Dismas’ shoulder:_

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it…” He licked his lips nervously, and Dismas whished that small thing hadn’t caught his attention like that and made him sit still, ruining his furious departure. “Forgive me, it is none of my business what… But I… You are my favourite companion, the one… I would willingly give my life for, in those dreadful dungeons… I…” Reynauld frowned, clearly struggling with what to say, and Dismas found it quite astonishing that someone as eloquent as Reynauld could prattle so much. “I… I care for you. I want your soul safe and… your redemption found.”_

 

 

Reynauld stops his horse and its ironclad hooves slide on the stone yard with a metallic screech and sparks. Once the horse is still, Dismas hurriedly jumps to the ground and puts some safe distance between him and Ironfeet. Giggling, Marigold accepts Reynauld’s help to dismount and she lands on the ground graciously, her red hair a bit messy from the ride and an inhumanly big smile on her face. Reynauld dismounts with ease and gives Marigold the reins.

Winking at Dismas, the girl leads the horse into the stable, leaving Dismas and Reynauld alone in the yard. The knight strides to Dismas, takes off his helm and is already carrying a smile that is a mixture of pure joy and seductiveness. Dismas wants to wipe that smile off, devour those lips. But he said Reynauld was going to pay for that ride, and he is making Reynauld pay for that ride:

“I have to close the shop,” Dismas excuses and walks away before Reynauld gets a hold of him, or the knight will end up paying nothing:

“Coward…” Reynauld teases, the smile never leaving his face. He puts the helm back and heads in the opposite direction to help Marigold and feed his horse.

 

 

_Reynauld looked away from Dismas as soon as he finished speaking. Only then he realized how… how conflicting he was: he, a nobleman, a holy man, a warrior of the Light… had feelings for a peasant, a bandit, a highwayman whose hands were stained by the blood of countless innocents he had murdered to rob; he insisted that Dismas had sinned, but he thought of kissing him and giving him pleasure, indulging in the temptations of the flesh he despised and believed to be a sin... and ultimately breaking his vows of chastity. He had feelings for another man, and that was a sin. No matter what the vestal had said, those sounded like too many sins in a row…_

_Reynauld jumped to his feet and covered his head with his bascinet. He had to leave. He had to go to the abbey, prey, beg pardon… but Dismas stood up as well and held his hand, and Reynauld couldn’t bring himself to pull away._

_Dismas was looking at him with those blue eyes of his, so blue and bright, so fearful, and he had hidden slightly in his scarf:_

_“But you’re right…” the highwayman whispered. “I know nothing about the connection between two people.” And Reynauld just knew Dismas was so scared. “I… never had someone. I didn’t have the time.”_

 

 

Dismas closes the doors of his shop and goes to the house. He closes the barn doors that separate the shop from the house and turns around to face another door, smaller, that leads to the stables. Little later that door opens and Reynauld comes through it. The helm is still on his head, and remains so as he approaches the highwayman.

When they are inches apart, Dismas takes off Reynauld’s helm and lets it fall to the ground with a metallic clank. Reynauld is sweaty and stenches of iron. Dismas takes in a sharp breath, his erection painful, and Reynauld leans into him and kisses him. Passionate. Possessive. Devoted. Wanting. Needing. Dismas moans into the kiss and wraps his arms around Reynauld’s broad shoulders, pressing their bodies together, feeling Reynauld’s arms snake around his waist. They have time, now.

 

 

_Reynauld stood before Dismas. Slowly, Reynauld pulled the bascinet off his head and let it fall on the ground with a metallic clank. Dismas followed his every movement with his eyes, his wide and scared blue eyes, and didn’t dare to breathe when Reynauld pulled off his gloves and, carefully, cupped Dismas’ face with his hands. Reynauld’s hands were big and warm and calloused, rough, but Dismas didn’t mind. Reynauld’s touch was surprisingly gentle and caring for a man of his size and possessing the strength and ruthlessness Dismas knew he did._

_They were practically the same height, but Reynauld titled his head down, slightly, and brought his forehead against Dismas, brushing their noses together:_

_“We have a bit of time, now…” he muttered softly, and lowered Dismas’ scarf just enough to expose his thin lips and that very appetizing scar. Dismas didn’t reply, entranced, and didn’t even shiver when lightening tore the skies and rain began to pour down on them, cold and merciless, and they stood there for a moment, looking at each other between their steamy breaths._

_Carefully, Reynauld tilted his head further and pressed his lips against Dismas’. A soft, chaste kiss, but with enough pressure and long enough to leave a promise._

 

 

Dismas manages to unbuckle Reynauld’s ridiculously large double wrap sword belt and lets it fall to the floor. The sword is in the scabbard, so Reynauld can’t complain about it getting dented. They begin to walk, slowly and rather clumsily, towards the bedroom. Dismas’ tunic joins the discarded sword belt. They have to interrupt the kiss for moments, so that Dismas can pull off Reynauld’s black tunic and hauberk, and that moment is enough for Reynauld to whimper and kiss Dismas with twice the vigor when their lips meet again:

“Is that a dagger I’m feeling?” Dismas asks teasingly and holds Reynauld’s earlobe between his teeth for a moment. Reynauld chuckles, and with one fluid motion he is carrying Dismas bridal-style into the bedroom:

“Call it what you want, Dis.”

 

 

_Sparring became less frequent between them, being replaced by time spent together by the ruins of the fountain, kissing and trailing each other’s upper bodies over their clothes. But as the weather worsened, Reynauld and Dismas decided to investigate those abandoned houses the leper had talked about, and they eventually decided that a small abandoned hut not far from the blacksmith’s workshop was exactly what they needed. And, now that they had a tattered roof above their heads and minimally decent walls around them, they could light a fire to warm themselves… and remove a few clothes._

_Dismas started it, the bandit. One day, he simply took off his scarf and overcoat, leaving just a light tunic over his slender torso. Out of spite, Reynauld removed his bascinet, gloves and tunic, and Dismas had the time of his life trying to feel muscles under the cold metal rings of the knight’s hauberk. And as he lied on his back, next to the fire, feeling Dismas’ fingers trying to map what was under the hauberk, Reynauld forced himself not to think about how he had doomed himself, because now his only way to redemption was to eradicate the Darkness that had taken over that estate… and it was a battle too big for just one soldier, and he would die. And Dismas would suffer. But if Reynauld’s life was the price to pay to save his soul, then he would willingly give Dismas what he needed in the meantime. He just hoped that, the day he was gone, the highwayman would forgive him._

 

 

Dismas sighs happily as Reynauld’s familiar weight presses him against the mattress. The knight kisses him hungrily, only to leave him for brief moments to pull off their boots and light the lonely torch hanging on one of the bedroom walls. Then he is back, kissing and nibbling and biting, and pulls off his and Dismas’ breeches.

They still shiver in delight when they feel each other’s skin, like it is their first time together. Dismas still feels surprised that he is the cause of Reynauld’s arousal, and the knight is still surprised that Dismas feels like that because of him.

 

 

_They went in a new expedition with a plague doctor and a vestal. It was the same vestal Reynauld had talked to in the abbey, so he greeted her with friendliness, and Dismas noticed it was all too familiar, compared to the somewhat cold interactions between crusader and vestal he had seen before._

_Further in the dungeons, Reynauld suffered a massive blow on his rib cage that knocked the air out of him and, in the terrifying minute that followed, Dismas thought Reynauld would not be able to breathe in again. And because of that, he yanked Reynauld’s bascinet off his head while the vestal and the plague doctor finished off their attackers. The knight’s desperate attempts to breathe in again became somewhat less terrifying, now that the bascinet was gone and so was the sound of gasping for air through iron. Slowly, Reynauld managed to breathe in, regularize his breathing, and Dismas helped him to sit down:_

_“You might have something broken, let me see,” Dismas asked worriedly, and his hands were already working on Reynauld’s belt. But the knight held his wrists, maybe a bit too roughly, and shook his head:_

_“I am… I am good,” he breathed, his face ashen and eyes wide in pain. The plague doctor and the vestal approached them, curiously, and crouched down next to Reynauld:_

_“You definitely have something broken. I have to fix you,” the plague doctor demanded. The vestal was already chanting a healing, her hand pressed over Reynauld’s head, and Dismas suddenly felt he was a useless appendix and, reluctantly, stepped back to make room for the plague doctor:_

_“I guess… I’ll stand guard,” he announced, but doubted someone heard him. With ease, the plague doctor unbuckled Reynauld’s belt and pulled off the  shoulder pieces, the battle worn tunic, the hauberk, a padded jacket and an old, discoloured tunic. And under all of that, Dismas noticed in awe, Reynauld was still broad and muscled._

_Reynauld looked down, visibly embarrassed, as the plague doctor pushed him back so that he would straighten his back and expose his torso. A gigantic, dark bruise was growing on the left side of his ribcage, where he had been hit:_

_“My leeches will do wonders on you!” the plague doctor exclaimed and pulled a little box from one of her pouches. The vestal was still chanting. Dismas felt an unpleasant shiver as the plague doctor placed two leeches over Reynauld’s bruise, and remembered his own experience with the leeches. Awful:_

_“Thank you. Both of you,” Reynauld mumbled, still looking down in embarrassment and putting on a stoic face as the leeches sucked the blood from his bruise. He took the chance to cross his arms in front of his abdomen, awkwardly._

_Dismas was obviously more interested on Reynauld’s naked chest and bare arms than in their surroundings. It hurt him that Reynauld had allowed the plague doctor to do the exact same thing Dismas had wanted to do and he didn’t understand why the knight hadn’t let him help, now that they were... close. With a sigh, the highwayman began to pace back and forth, trying to focus on his self-purposed task: stand guard._

_But after a while he looked at Reynauld again, and now he could take a glimpse at the knight’s back, even though the vestal partially blocked his view. Still Dismas noticed it: Reynauld’s back, broad and muscled and heavily scarred._

 

 

Dismas bites hard where Reynauld’s neck meets the shoulder. The knight moans and shivers, and thrusts clumsily against Dismas, lying on top of him. Much to Reynauld’s dismay, Dismas keeps doing wonders to his neck and shoulder, but moves slightly and is now lying on the bed, the pressure of his body dearly missed:

“Dis…?” Reynauld calls in a rough voice. Dismas hums against his neck and he moans loudly and clutches to whatever he can hold onto; he is pretty sure one of hands is digging its fingers into Dismas’ buttocks, and his other hand is clutching to a bedsheet. “Dis… please…”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Dismas whispers at his ear, highly amused. “You’re going to pay for that, you know I don’t like horses…”

“I’m already paying on Saturday, when we’ll go to collect lavenders! Marigold told me about your evil plan!” Reynauld complains and squirms as Dismas keeps doing wonders to his neck and shoulder. But that alone isn’t enough. “You cannot ignore me!”

“Watch me…” Dismas whispers seductively and begins to lick his way down Reynauld’s body, softly and teasingly, giving special attention to the crusader’s hard nipples but blatantly ignoring his erection. Reynauld groans in pleasure and suffering.

 

 

_“You could have let me help you,” the highwayman said bitterly as they left the Heiress’ mansion, each carrying a bag of coins. The plague doctor and the vestal were still inside the building, and Dismas would like that Reynauld could walk just a bit faster, because he wanted to have this conversation in private. But the crusader was still badly injured, and his stubbornness in fighting one-handed had done nothing to improve his condition:_

_“I am fine,” Reynauld replied automatically from inside his bascinet._

_“I'm taking you to the Sanitarium anyway,” Dismas grumbled and kicked a small pebble out of his way._

_They heard someone running after them and steps approaching. Much for Dismas’ dismay, the plague doctor stopped in front of them, the goggles of her mask looking at them with uncomfortable intensity, like she could stare right into them:_

_“Here, have this,” she said unceremoniously and from her many pouches produced a small opaque vial. “My friend the leper told me about you two… and you-“ Her masked head turned abruptly to the crusader, the beak almost touching his face. “-you were really brave down there, with broken ribs and still fighting… the least I can do is give you something useful.” She looked at Dismas again and shoved the vial into his hands. “It’s made of herbs and believe me, makes things much more slippery! You can always ask for more when that one’s over.” Then the plague doctor turned around and began to walk away, holding a bag of coins against her chest._

_Dismas stared at her with a deep frown, utter confused. He then looked down at the vial in his hands, then to Reynauld… and the knight was stiff as stone, and under the bascinet he was probably very pale:_

_“Reynauld? Do you have any idea of what she was talking about?” Dismas asked, shaking the vial curiously. “What is this?”_

_The knight shook his head, slowly, and he seemed to somehow shrink:_

_“Sodomy…” he cried lowly, in sheer horror. Dismas’ frown grew bigger:_

_“And that is…?” And the highwayman nearly jumped back when Reynauld turned his head at him in a sharp motion, abruptly and emanating a strange kind of danger:_

_“A hideous sin!” But one he had fantasised with Dismas. He held the highwayman by the arms and shook him, desperate. “They think we are sodomites!”_

_“Well, if it’s a sin, let me see…” Dismas grumbled in annoyance and wriggled free from Reynauld. “Must be fun and pleasurable… Oh, I think I’ve just guessed… it’s a… temptation of the flesh? Am I right?” Reynauld said nothing, and Dismas had to fight the urge of yanking the bascinet off his head again. “Is it, Reynauld?”_

_“Yes.” Reynauld grunted bitterly. “Between… men. Hence… the slippery thing…”_

_By the tension emanating from Reynauld, Dismas assumed it meant a great deal to the knight. The highwayman sighed, unable to hide his disappointment; he liked to kiss Reynauld and touch his upper body over the armour… but seemed he would not have more than that, and it hurt him that Reynauld didn’t want him the same way he wanted the knight:_

_“That night… that night you caught me touching myself… I was thinking about you,” he muttered, and looked down at his boots. “But… if you don’t want to… we don’t…”_

_And Reynauld felt the crushing weight of guilt and shame. Because he wanted to. It had been easier not to want to with his wife, and the crusader blamed himself for having grown so weak. As Dismas began to walk away, still holding the vial, Reynauld strode after him, ignoring the pain in his rib cage, and held the highwayman by the arm, making him turn around to face him:_

_“I want to!” he exclaimed sadly. “But… I’ve taken vows of chastity…” More excuses that only made him sound confusing, even at his ears. “I… I care so much for you…”_

_However, Dismas’ face softened, and he sighed patiently and rested his hand over Reynauld’s, holding his arm:_

_“Come on, your rib cage needs treatment.”_

 

 

Reynauld, being stronger than Dismas, finds a way to flip them over and now he lies on top of the highwayman, pressing their bodies together. He shivers uncontrollably and moans loudly as he rubs their erections together:

“Low trick…” Dismas complains without feeling, relishing the feeling of having Reynauld there, with him, and exposes his neck so that the crusader can lick and bite all he wants.

 

 

_The cold was merciless. It rained sometimes, with intensity never seen elsewhere, and the fog snaking through the Hamlet was so thick if formed perfect white phantom walls._

_Dismas and Reynauld now had three campfires in their hut. They had been silent, and Reynauld knew that, even though Dismas claimed getting more physical had no importance… it did. Reynauld could see it in Dismas’ sad blue eyes, how he was scared Reynauld didn’t want him, that secretly the knight despised him even though he claimed otherwise._

_One day Reynauld could not take it anymore. He kissed Dismas, softly at first, then let himself be passionate and put into that kiss what he didn’t have the courage to put into words. Dismas, still a rather unexperienced kisser, did his best to keep up, visibly enthusiastic with Reynauld’s initiative. And soon it wasn’t just kissing, but moaning and gasping for air, and their hands roamed free, finding their way between clothes and skin, and they had been sitting on the floor until Dismas began to lean back, slowly, parting his legs for Reynauld and allowing the crusader to lie on top of him._

_Reynauld, in his armour, was too heavy. But Dismas did not want to complain, especially when Reynauld began to grind their bodies together, discreetly at first, until he was humping desperately on the highwayman. And all Dismas could do was moan in agreement and try to help Reynauld by moving his body in accordance to Reynauld’s. His hands found a way under the hauberk and the padded jacket at Reynauld’s back, right below the knight’s neck, and Dismas started to touch and explore the muscles and skin he encountered._

_Scarred skin._

_Reynauld tensed up and slowed down his movements as he felt Dismas’ hands on his back, tracing bits of scars. He would like to forget about those scars. No, better, he would like to forget about how he got those scars:_

_“Reynauld…” Dismas moaned, his voice full of emotions the highwayman could not understand, and bucked his hips clumsily against Reynauld’s._

_The crusader took in a sharp breath and pushed his scars to the back of his mind. He traced the scar crossing Dismas’ lips with his tongue, softly, and that earned him the most beautiful gasp. He then took the opportunity to trail kisses down the highwayman’s jaw to his collarbones, feeling one of Dismas’ hands leave his back and slide further down, to his hip, and going down a bit more…_

_Reynauld stopped abruptly and scrambled to his feet. In his haste, he stumbled and fell again, on his knees, and stood there, frozen, looking at Dismas with wide brown eyes. But it wasn’t Dismas. It was the priest. Reynauld knew what was going to happen. He did not want it. His father had just scolded him in front of other knights because he had fallen off his pony. Reynauld wanted to be alone and cry in shame. But it wasn’t the priest… it was just Dismas, who was staring at him, confused and hurt in the dimness of the hut. Outside the wind howled and Reynauld realized he was cold; he hadn’t been cold before, with Dismas._

_They looked at each other, an apparently immensurable distance between them. Reynauld shrank into his hauberk with shame and was not strong enough to look Dismas in the eyes:_

_“I… my vows…” he excused weakly. His vows, his fear, his faith… He wanted to scream and cry and be held by Dismas and tell him impossible things. He wanted to quit and start anew again, but now he could not:_

_“It’s… it’s fine,” Dismas replied quietly, his voice rough with arousal._

_They remained silent and distant for a while. Dismas sat again, supporting his back against a decrepit stone wall, and Reynauld remained still in the same place._

 

 

Dismas slips his hand under the mattress, where he keeps his old whisky flask. He takes it from under the mattress and hands it to Reynauld. The flask hasn’t have whisky in a long time; instead, it keeps a greasy substance, a secret recipe from a friendly plague doctor, that makes things slippery.

 

 

_The silence between them was crushing and even the three campfires seemed weaker. Reynauld couldn’t stand it, because he knew getting more intimate was important for Dismas. The highwayman needed it… and the crusader needed it as well. Reynauld wanted to give it to him, with all his being. Mustering courage, Reynauld crawled to Dismas and sat beside him. Carefully, he hid his head on the crook of Dismas’ neck:_

_“Can… can I touch you?” he whispered, embarrassed. It had been easier with his wife… but that part of his life was long gone, and now, this one-man crusade, was all he had. And Dismas was part of it as well._

_Dismas was silent for a moment, then rested a hand on Reynauld’s neck and began to stroke the knight’s jaw with his thumb, over the big scar that had granted him the opportunity to see Reynauld clean-shaved. He felt his ears redden in embarrassment:_

_“Please…” the highwayman begged. Slowly, using one gloveless hand, Reynauld unbuckled Dismas’ belt, unbuttoned his breeches and slipped a hand under the clothes. Dismas shivered and his hand moved to Reynauld’s head, where his fingers curled around short light copper hair. Reynauld held him carefully, and his touch was the extreme opposite from Dismas’ fantasies. It felt good nonetheless, and the highwayman turned his head to the side, trying to reach Reynauld’s face to kiss him. But the knight’s face remained stubbornly hidden on the crook of Dismas’s neck._

_Dismas closed his eyes, breathing heavily next to Reynauld’s ear:_

_“Feels… feels good…” he muttered shyly, holding onto the crusader’s hair more tightly. If it hurt, Reynauld didn’t mention it. “I… I never… I never had someone…”_

_Reynauld planted a soft kiss on Dismas’ neck as response, then hid his face again. He knew that. And he felt despicable for giving nothing better to the highwayman._

_Dismas seemed perfectly happy with what Reynauld was giving him, though. He began to moan and mumble senseless things, his breath and rough voice tickling Reynauld’s ear and giving him shivers and goosebumps:_

_“Are you this hard for me?” Reynauld asked softly, in awe. But also in fear, and he hated that that fear was there. “Do you really feel this for me?”_

_Dismas’ answer was an intelligible half-grunt, half-moan as he came. The most animalistic and beautiful sound Reynauld had ever heard, and he felt tempted to ask Dismas to touch him as well… just a couple of strokes would be enough…_

_But the knight clenched his jaw and kissed Dismas’ neck again. The highwayman’s accelerated breathing filled the interior of the hut, practically silencing the wind howling outside:_

_“Yes… Yes I do, Reynauld…” Dismas mumbled finally, after catching his breath again. “Do… do you want me to…?”_

_“No,” Reynauld replied a bit too abruptly. He wanted to. He wanted to let Dismas know how much he desired him, wanted to tell him forbidden things, make impossible promises._

 

 

Reynauld collapses on top of Dismas and the highwayman huffs:

“Rey, you monster…!” he complains without feeling, though Reynauld, all muscles and scars and sweat, is indeed uncomfortably heavy when applying dead weight. With a senseless groan, the crusader slowly slips off Dismas and rolls to his side. They are exhausted, sweaty and sticky, still Dismas cradles Reynauld against his chest and kisses his forehead:

“You like it,” the knight replies after a while, all sass and a big, satisfied grin spreading on his face. And Dismas be damned, he does like it.

 

 

_Reynauld tossed and turned in his cot. The priest was after him again, and he did not want to. He was tired of it. He had told his father, who had given him a beating for saying such horrible things about a holy man. Truth was that said holy man didn’t act as holy and virtuous as he should and as the Scriptures said. Reynauld tried to run away, but the priest was a tall man, with long legs, and he was just a child, his legs were still small and because of that he was still riding a pony._

_The priest held him by the shoulder, saying he wanted to show Reynauld something. Reynauld did not want it. He screamed for help and tried to escape, but the priest was holding both of his arms and was pulling him to a nearby storage room. Reynauld’s cries for help hit against the cold dark stones the mansion had been built with and died there. However, Reynauld managed to punch the priest’s face, and as the priest clutched to his bleeding mouth, Reynauld escaped._

_Dismas spat blood to the floor, bewildered, as many arms reached out for him to help him regain his balance:_

_“He’s insane, he must be locked away in the Sanitarium!” a bounty hunter exclaimed, looking at the trail of destruction Reynauld had left behind; men pushed mercilessly to the floor, upturned cots and belongings, doors pulled wide open, a hound barking in distress. Dismas said nothing, merely allowed the other adventurers to help him up and wiped his bleeding lower lip to his sleeve. Fortunately, Reynauld had punched him bare-fisted… and not with those horrible gauntlets._

_Steps were heard outside the men’s dormitory and a few female adventurers peeked into the room:_

_“What happened?” a grave robber asked, looking around curiously:_

_“His crusader was having a nightmare, he woke him up, got punched and the crusader fled,” a hound master explained briefly, petting his hound to calm it down. Dismas blushed heavily and cast the hound master a murderous glare. A hellion’s head peeked over the grave robber’s:_

_“What are you waiting for, highwayman?? The poor thing must be scared, go find him!” she urged, very indignant to see Dismas making zero effort to go find Reynauld and comfort him._

 

 

Reynauld makes a glorious entry in the bedroom: naked, covered in hickeys and carrying a large plate with sliced bread and various types of cheese. Dismas, sprawled on the bed, nods appreciatively and makes room for Reynauld to sit beside him:

“I told Raymond to dance with Marigold in the ball,” Reynauld announces proudly, setting the plate between them and assembling a pile of various cheeses over a slice of bread. Dismas does the same, laughing:

“You did not!”

“I did. I saw Thomas talking to Jeanne, on my way to training today. I figured he hadn’t invited Marigold…” Reynauld shrugged, obviously pleased with his initiative. “Raymond is a good man and Marigold deserves the best.”

“Raymond has bad, bad aim,” Dismas replies and chuckles, because even Reynauld can do better with pistols than Raymond. Reynauld frowns, and to show his disagreement he steals a piece of cheese from Dismas’ slice of bread:

“Were it not by laws, I would knight Raymond myself!”

 

 

_Reynauld was in the abbey, curled on the ground in front of the broken altar. It was raining heavily and, because of that gigantic hole in the roof, the inside of the abbey was slightly flooded. A vestal was in the abbey as well, but she was standing near Reynauld, looking down at him and hugging a thick versebook against her chest. Dismas, soaked and cold, sighed, summoning patience:_

_“Reynauld,” he called. He was worried. And angry, too. Hours ago, Reynauld had been intimate with him, and just moments before had punched him when Dismas had finally managed to wake him up from his nightmare._

_The knight didn’t react, and Dismas strode to him, the little patience he had summoned previously already gone:_

_“Can’t you help him?” he asked the vestal as he kneeled next to the knight and pulled him close. Reynauld was soaked and freezing cold. Dismas looked up to the vestal, to see her shake her head slowly:_

_“The Light can do much, but cannot give him the comfort he needs,” she explained sadly. Dismas frowned, but the vestal simply lowered her head and walked away, trying to protect her book from the rain._

_Dismas decided they shouldn’t stay there. Reynauld was shaking compulsively and muttering something. Maybe a prayer, Dismas concluded as he noticed the crusader clutching his rosary in a hand._

_With great effort, the highwayman managed to drag the knight to their little hut. They needed to talk, and the barracks, so crowded at that time of the night, would not do. In their hut, Dismas lighted one campfire and sat close to it, with Reynauld sobbing and shaking and praying in his arms._

_They were soaked and cold but, gradually, Reynauld calmed down a little, even if he still sobbed occasionally. Dismas, holding him tight against his chest, was at a loss of what to do. He couldn’t do anything if Reynauld didn’t tell him what was wrong:_

_“Reynauld, we need to talk,” Dismas said, his voice so serious it made Reynauld look up at him with wide, scared brown eyes. The highwayman frowned, sadly, and touched Reynauld’s forehead with his._ _“I… I care for you… And you said you… cared for me. So please… tell me.” he whispered. He wanted to help Reynauld. Had to. The knight meant too much to him, now._

_Reynauld hesitated, but he eventually broke. He cried, and told Dismas about the core of his torments: memories of his childhood, of the priest in charge of his education abusing him, doing things to him Reynauld knew were wrong, but couldn’t fully understand because he was too young; of his father, beating him with a whip when Reynauld misbehaved, or didn’t practice hard enough, or didn’t make his homework. He told Dismas he could still see the priest coming to him with ill intentions every time he tried to be more intimate with the highwayman and approach him. He told Dismas about how being a crusader was so important to him, to cleanse his soul from the impurities that had been done to him, to be a real holy man and act accordingly. He told Dismas he was torn between his deep caring for the highwayman and himself, his beliefs and faith. Reynauld cried and sobbed, miserably, and Dismas thought that, from all the adventurers in the Hamlet, Reynauld was the most broken of them all._

_And all Dismas could do was staying there, holding Reynauld and listening to him. And he wanted to tell the knight kind words, reassure him, promise him everything would be alright, chase away his nightmares and that horrid priest. But Dismas wasn’t good with words, and words seemed vain, too empty and too formal. Dismas wanted to somehow express that all the care he felt for Reynauld increased painfully, rooting past his heart and into his mind, his soul. With a sigh, he carefully lied down on the ground, in front of the fireplace, still holding Reynauld tightly against his chest. The knight clutched to him, hiding his head on the crook of the highwayman’s neck, and Dismas began to gently stroke his hair:_

_“My family was really poor, and I was the younger of six brothers,” he told quietly. He felt like it would be adequate to share his misfortunes with Reynauld, to distract him from his own. “We lived in the city. My father worked on the nearby mine, it made him ill but he would still go to work there. One day, my mother managed to convince the local candle-maker to take me as his apprentice. It wasn’t bad, you know? The old man was good to me, taught me to read and write and do basic maths too. He paid me a copper coin a day, so I had to wait nearly two weeks to have enough to buy bread for my brothers.” Dismas paused and looked at Reynauld. The knight had stopped crying and was looking at him with puffy reddened eyes. “One day… one day the old man left a bag of gold coins on the workbench. He wasn’t looking… and there were so many coins… I thought… I thought taking a few wouldn’t matter. And I bought some nice food. But when I got home… my parents wanted to know how I had gotten the food, and they didn’t believe when I told them the old man had given it to me. My father gave me a nasty beating with the belt…” Dismas sighed, let go of Reynauld and changed to a sitting position. Turning his back at the knight and at the campfire, he lifted his overcoat and tunic just enough to expose his lower back, crisscrossed of old belt scars. He tugged his clothes back to place and returned to his initial position of lying down with Reynauld in his embrace. “Then he took me to the old man… I had to tell the truth… The old man was very disappointed with me, and my father was furious. He said he wouldn’t shelter a thief and that my mother was pregnant again, so we needed more space in the house…” Dismas shrugged when Reynauld frowned and opened his mouth to speak. “I ran. And I didn’t look back.”_

_“You were just a child…” Reynauld muttered, shocked, and Dismas looked into his eyes:_

_“And so were you.” He paused. "I just wanted food, first... but then I started to steal money... rob people, threaten them with knives... My first kill was a guard. I used to gamble, when I was younger... but that only brought me more problems... and booze isn't always the best... I just... I was always on the run, and I'm so tired of that, Reynauld..."_

 

 

Resting his head on Reynauld’s chest, Dismas traces spirals and circles on the knight’s chest and stomach. Reynauld burps loudly and the highwayman smacks his stomach:

“Rude!” he scolds playfully:

“At least I don’t leave bread crumbs on the bed…”

“I’m sorry I don’t have your finesse when it comes to stuffing my mouth with food,” Dismas smiles lazily and looks up to Reynauld. The knight yawns, and the highwayman fights back the impulse of yawning as well. They have a lot of time; they should put it to better use other than sleeping. He stretches a hand and pulls Reynauld down to a hungry kiss.

 

 

_Reynauld was calmer after telling Dismas about his worries. A year gone by, and progress was made in the dungeons. Reynauld and Dismas, who were a very efficient team, were frequently requested to go on expeditions._

_Despite the childhood memories still haunting him, Reynauld gradually allowed more intimacy between him and Dismas. Their clothes remained on, but that didn’t stop them from finding their way between clothes and skin, and slowly they mapped each other’s bodies, finding and memorizing pleasure points. No words were said, because neither of them knew how to say it without it sounding pathetic: two grown men, free-falling for each other, in a place where everything could go wrong and destroy the little hopes and worlds they dreamed about._

_One day, Reynauld shyly approached Dismas and muttered near his ear:_

_“Would… would you touch me?”_

_And even though Reynauld already knew what it felt like to reach climax, with was a whole new experience with Dismas, more powerful and satisfying and not merely physical, and relaxing on the highwayman’s arms felt more peaceful than his previous experience. To Reynauld, Dismas felt just right._

 

 

Reynauld hands Dismas the whisky flask:

“We need more,” he says casually, watching Dismas coat himself with the slippery substance. The highwayman raises an eyebrow, both seductively and making a wordless challenge. Reynauld, a true knight, obviously accepts the challenge. “I can perfectly collect a bunch of herbs while you and Marigold pick up lavender!”

“Suddenly not afraid of bees?” Dismas teases and Reynauld grunts, turns around and lies on his stomach. The highwayman kisses him between the shoulder blades and thrusts in.

 

 

_Darkness surrounded the party, and not even four torches were enough to safely light their path. Reynauld was injured in a leg, and Dismas was injured in an arm. While they stitched each other, the leper held the torches, two in each hand, looking around for possible threats._

_Reynauld was silent, obviously in pain; he had a deep gash in his thigh. But Dismas could tell something else was bothering the crusader. He tried to ease the mood:_

_“Did I wash this needle?” he asked absently, pretending to try to remember if he had indeed disinfected his medical supplies. “Oh well, too late now.” But Reynauld just chuckled, weakly, and Dismas stopped stitching the knight’s wound and placed a hand on his shoulder. Reynauld stopped stitching the highwayman’s wounded arm as well. “Reynauld, what’s wrong?”_

_“It’s so dark… too dark.” Reynauld replied, looking around. And he was right; they had never been surrounded by so much darkness._

 

 

Dismas moans in pleasure, thrusting into Reynauld. He bents down to nibble at Reynauld’s neck, hears his sharp breaths and the sweet things he mumbles. Dismas smiles, replies equally sweet things. They still aren’t good with words, but they try.

 

 

_The leper fell dead and the Ancestor shifted into the most horrible thing Reynauld and Dismas had ever seen. The Heart of Darkness, the foul creature that Reynauld had to destroy in name of the Light… and to redeem himself._

_Reynauld and Dismas looked at each other. Reynauld’s head was covered by the bascinet._

_There were things that needed to be said, words that had to be heard, promises to make, pardons to beg. But none of them had the courage to speak, because they were so afraid… afraid of losing. Losing each other._

 

 

“I love you…” Reynauld mutters and looks over his shoulder, brown eyes dark with want and pleasure as Dismas keeps thrusting into him and runs his fingers through his short light copper hair. There are already a few grey hairs, but unlike Dismas, whose hair is dark and makes his grey hairs stand out, Reynauld’s is lighter and the grey hairs are only visible in close inspection.

But they have time:

“I love you…” Dismas grunts and bents down again to nibble at Reynauld’s neck.

 

 

_They fought. Dismas fired once and reloaded, Reynauld stepped forward and swung his longsword. Then Dismas fired again, and Reynauld swung his sword again. Pistols barked and blade sang. Dismas cursed repeatedly, trying to ease the stress just the sight of the horrid creature caused him. Reynauld’s battle cries echoed through the darkness._

_But the creature refused to die, fighting back hard and mercilessly. The creature did not grow tired, and the bleeding was minimal._

_Reynauld and Dismas, on the other hand, were on the verge of collapse. But the knight was still summoning strength from somewhere, and as long as he stood, Dismas would stand as well._

 

 

Dismas snakes a hand between Reynauld’s stomach and the mattress, and moves further down. Reynauld moans, loudly. He can be as loud as he wants, now. They are both loud, but the knight takes the prize. Dismas takes hold of Reynauld’s erection and begins to stroke, his pacing matching his increasingly rapid thrusts.

 

 

_Dismas couldn’t stand it anymore. He fired a last time and fell on his knees. He saw as Reynauld stepped forwards, crying out yet another battle cry, and pierced the creature with his sword. There was a horrid screech and a blinding but brief explosion of light._

_And then… then there was silence, and the darkness turned into dimness. Dismas, on his knees, blinked his eyes stupidly, staring at the place where the creature had been. But it was gone now._

_Gone._

_He smiled, and his smile grew into a fit of laughter. He looked around, looking for Reynauld; the knight had killed it! Reynauld had finished his crusade, he had triumphed over the Heart of Darkness! He had found his redemption!_

_Dismas’ laughter and smile died as soon as he noticed the knight lying on the ground, right in front of him:_

_“No…”_

 

 

They pant, catching their breath. Dismas crawls next to Reynauld and takes him in his arms, kisses his forehead. Reynauld snuggles on him, kisses his chin.

They repeat they love each other, make promises and vows.

 

 

_The creature had been killed, but in its last moment had managed to strike a last time. And Dismas would be the one dying, if Reynauld hadn’t protected him._

_Reynauld lied on his side, bleeding, but Dismas couldn’t tell exactly how bad the wound was because the bloodied hauberk didn’t let him have a good look at the wound, and he was too afraid to move the hauberk:_

_“Reynauld… Reynauld, don’t you dare…” Dismas threatened, his voice weak. With shaky hands, he pulled the bascinet off Reynauld’s head and cupped his face with his hands. Reynauld’s eyes were closed, but the knight smiled:_

_“Are… are you alright?” he asked:_

_“I… I am… but… I won’t be, if you don’t recover right now!” Dismas complained, thumbing the crusader’s cheeks. He couldn’t lose Reynauld! He hadn’t told him how much… how much he **cared** for him! He shook his head and cradled the knight on his arms, pulling him against his chest. Reynauld weakly rested his head on Dismas’ shoulder. “You killed it, Reynauld… you… you won! You can’t die!”_

_“I knew… I knew it would happen…” Reynauld mumbled, his lips brushing Dismas’ scarf. “Can… can you forgive me?”_

_“No, I’ll be really angry if you die…” Dismas pushed back a sob and stood on shaky legs, hoisting up Reynauld. He could not lose the knight. “Reynauld, we need to talk…”_

_“We do…!” the crusader agreed, and there was a sudden urgency in his voice. With the little strength he had, he raised his hand to caress Dismas’ cheek, and the highwayman looked at him with wide, scared teary eyes._

_The dimness began to darken again, and Dismas looked around frantically. They had to get out of there. He began to walk, dragging Reynauld along:_

_“Dismas…” Reynauld called weakly, and the highwayman stopped again and looked at the knight. Reynauld opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He closed his eyes and his knees gave away, and he would have fallen if Dismas wasn’t holding him:_

_“Reynauld??” Dismas called, panic and desperation in his voice. “Reynauld?? Reynauld, we need to talk!! I must tell you something!”_

_He sat on the ground again, Reynauld cradled against his chest. But the knight did not respond, not when Dismas yelled his name and not when Dismas kissed him._

 

 

Reynauld looks up at him, carrying the most beautiful smile in the world. The smile is interrupted by a yawn, and Dismas laughs. He yawns too, though:

“Go to sleep, old man,” Reynauld mocks. But they have time. They kiss and snuggle impossibly closer, tangling their legs and tracing scars with feather-light touches.

 

 

_Dismas made the most pained sound ever heard in those dungeons. He clung to Reynauld and broke, crying like a lost child. He had let Reynauld too close to him that, within a year and some months, the knight had practically erased a lifetime of solitude. And now, that Dismas was alone, he did not know what to do._

_He hadn’t told Reynauld how he felt. How he **cared** so much, how he needed and wanted him, how hearing his voice was important, how holding him close and calm him from a nightmare meant more than all the money in world. He hadn’t told Reynauld how the knight made him feel like a silly, love-struck teenage boy, clumsy and ridiculous, but also like the most important person in the world, like he was worthy of something better than dwelling in forests waiting for carriages to rob._

_He lied on the ground, atop Reynauld, and buried his head on the knight’s chest. Crying. He didn’t want to go back, not without Reynauld._

 

 

Reynauld uses a bucket to put down the torch. The room is instantly engulfed in darkness, except for a few moonlight beams that make their way through the closed interior wood shutters. Reynauld goes back to bed and cuddles up with Dismas, who pulls a bedsheet over them.

Tonight is Dismas’ turn to be the big spoon.

 

 

_Dismas woke up in the Sanitarium, but he couldn’t remember how he got there. He was momently confused, until all the recent happenings flooded his mind with overwhelming brutality._

_Reynauld…_

_He looked at his left, where usually the knight would lie… and there was a cot whose occupant had been completely covered in a white sheet. The sheet was grievously bloodstained._

_Dismas’ heart stopped for a moment, and the highwayman forgot to breathe. Reynauld… he had lost him. He had lost his knight to a senseless crusade of Light triumphing over Darkness. They should have left when they had the chance… Dismas should have convinced Reynauld to leave that place with him, start anew… But of course, he had never meant that much for Reynauld, had he? All that Dismas could have given Reynauld – company, devotion, pleasure, care… **love** … - had probably been meaningless compared to that stupid knightly nonsense of honour and duty and faith._

_With angry, broken-hearted tears burning his eyes, Dismas remembered how he had naively given his support for Reynauld’s ridiculous one-man crusade._

_He bit his lower lip strong enough to taste blood, all for the sake of stopping himself from sobbing. Reynauld was gone, and he would have to go back to his old life. There was no other way around it. He would spend all the money the Heiress gave him in drinking and gambling, all to forget a pseudo-life that, in his best dreams, had actually been a life, of him and Reynauld somewhere, sharing a roof. Having a home._

 

 

Reynauld turns around, his back touching Dismas’ chest. The highwayman kisses his shoulder, his lips lingering just enough to leave a promise for the morning.

“Tomorrow you’re going to excuse Raymond from shooting practice, because I have to turn him into a knight…” Reynauld yawns and makes himself comfortable on Dismas’ embrace. The highwayman chuckles and closes his eyes:

“Tomorrow Marigold is staying alone with wax that needs to be turned into candles, and you’ll give me a hand to fix those candles,” Dismas declares.

Reynauld mumbles something about doing whatever Dismas wants.

 

 

_“Dismas…?” a rough, weak voice called from the highwayman’s right. And Dismas couldn’t help the sob that escaped him, because that voice was so similar to Reynauld’s… Fighting back tears and sobs – he was a fully grown man after all – he looked to the cot at his right._

_And there was Reynauld, dead pale and with feverish sunken eyes, stretching his had to him. Dismas widened his eyes and hurriedly held the hand that was trying to reach at him:_

_“Dismas…” Reynauld slurred. “I… there was this light, and it was so warm… and there was music…! But…” He frowned, closed his eyes. Dismas panicked and squeezed Reynauld’s hand, and the knight opened his eyes again. “But… you said… we needed to talk… And… I didn’t tell you…! Ou-… outrageous... I almost… I almost left… and didn’t tell you…!”_

 

 

“Dis…?” Reynauld calls sleepily. Dismas, eyes closed and drifting to sleep, hums. “I love you…”

“I love you too, Rey…” Dismas mumbles, sighing contentedly and planting a sleepy kiss on the back of Reynauld’s neck. His lover, as he is Reynauld’s, and they almost didn’t acknowledge what they became.

 

 

_Dismas looked at him with wide, teary scared eyes. So blue and bright, waters so still that ran so deep, hiding the most beautiful things. Reynauld almost left without telling Dismas how much he **cared**. But now he could tell him, because his crusade was over. He could make promises and whisper sweet things, because he had redeemed himself. He had done what the Light had wanted from him, and now he could live. Not as a crusader, a holy man, but as Reynauld._

_He licked his lips:_

_“I love you,” he said quietly, though he didn’t need to. There were just the two of them in the Sanitarium. The dead body at Dismas’ left was the leper’s and no other adventurers needed medical treatment… because the darkness was gone, and so were its creatures._

_Dismas’ breath caught in his chest, and a lonely tear rolled down his cheek. He squeezed Reynauld’s hand:_

_“I love you.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I was wondering if you people would like to know how the ball goes. Or is it a bad idea?  
> If you innocently agree on having that chapter about the ball, I'm afraid I'll only post it in September, because my cousins are visiting and are staying in my bedroom and I can't stand writing with someone else in the same room as me. ._.
> 
> (also I'll start working on that Flagellant fic *evil cackling* )


	5. Bonus chapter: the ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have a cold, my cousins left me alone at home again... and so I finished typing this chapter. Now I can turn all my attention to the Flagellant fic *evil cackling*
> 
> BUT HECK, I loved - LOVED - writing this one! I just wish my video games had the same amount of cuteness as my fanfics. ;-; Poor Dismas and poor Reynauld sure deserve it...
> 
> And I hope you have enjoyed this fic as much as I did. Feedback is always appreciated!

Dismas’ and Reynauld’s house has a small backyard surrounded by a decrepit fence Reynauld has promised to fix. When, none of them knows. In the backyard, there is an old tree and a small garden. There is a rope tied from the tree to a nail sticking out of the house wall, and Reynauld is currently hanging on the rope his and Dismas’ best clothes, that have spent too much time inside a wooden chest and need to freshen a bit before the ball that night. The stable window is open, and Ironfeet has its head out in the sun and its eyes are closed.

Dismas joins Reynauld outside, taking a moment to appreciate the knight’s naked chest and his muscles stretching and flexing as he works:

“Rey, sit down for a moment. I want to do your hair,” Dismas announces, tilting his head. Reynauld peeks at him from behind a bright red tunic he has just hung – Dismas’ – and frowns:

“Last time you did my hair, I ended up with the same hairstyle as you…” the knight complains, because he enjoys having his hair homogenously short. Dismas just grins, the bandit, and cocks an eyebrow seductively, promising Reynauld wonders after wonders if the knight just sits still and lets him do his hair.

Complaining about how they are going to end up with the same hairstyle, Reynauld sits on the stool Dismas victoriously brings outside.

 

 

_The fog was gone, and so was the permanent darkness surrounding the estate. Trees and plants looked healthy again, and when Reynauld finally left the Sanitarium there were birds flying above the rooftops, and rabbits in the forest, and butterflies and flowers all around._

_Gradually, the adventurers had been leaving, until there was only Dismas and Reynauld: Reynauld, because he had been recovering in the Sanitarium, and Dismas, who had been waiting for Reynauld._

_Since it had been Reynauld giving the death blow to the Heart of Darkness, the Heiress asked him to name a prize. And, much for the Heiress’ and Dismas’ confusion, the knight asked… for a warhorse._

_Breeders were brought to the estate, each bringing the finest of horses._

 

Dismas empties a bucket of water over Reynauld’s head. The objective is to get the crusader’s light copper hair wet, so that it is easier to cut, but truth to be told Dismas just wants to see Reynauld shiver, because his body is warm from being under the sun and the water is cold, and he wants to admire Reynauld’s wet skin glister in the sun.

Ironfeet neighs, startling Dismas:

“Will you help me braiding it, this time?” Reynauld asks, though he already knows the answer:

“I’ll hold it for you, and that’s a lot already…” Dismas grumbles and begins to style Reynauld’s hair.

 

 

_“Dismas, would you like to choose a horse for you, too?” Reynauld asked, buckling his belt over his hauberk. He hadn’t worn his crusader tunic since leaving the Sanitarium, and Dismas had interpreted it as Reynauld putting an end to his crusader knight-errant lifestyle. So, right now, he was utterly confused as to why Reynauld needed a warhorse. A palfrey? Understandable, a horse for a knight… but… a warhorse???_

_“I don’t like horses…” Dismas confessed, feeling suddenly embarrassed when Reynauld smiled:_

_“You can’t ride?”_

_“No… and I don’t want to!”_

_“I can teach you!” Reynauld sounded enthusiastic and cupped Dismas’ face, thumbing his cheeks. The highwayman leaned into the touch: they hadn’t had much time together, first with Reynauld in the Sanitarium, then with the Heiress wanting to give Reynauld a special prize, and now with Reynauld about to spend a whole day choosing a horse._

 

 

Dismas holds a small round mirror in front of Reynauld’s face, and though the knight already knew that would be the final result, he can’t help an amused smirk; they both share the same hairstyle, short at the sides and back of the head and slightly longer in the top. He looks up fondly to the highwayman, who bents down to kiss his forehead:

“I guess I can polish my armour, now,” Reynauld says, and Dismas rolls his eyes just for show:

“It’s a ball, not a tournament…” he replies, but he too will take his pistols and daggers.

Reynauld goes inside and returns little later with his hauberk, gauntlets and vambraces, as well with his sword, a rag and a polishing solution. And Dismas crosses his arms and watches as Reynauld, gloriously half-naked, sits on the stool again, under the sun, with the same happiness a child would sit on their favourite spot with their favourite toys. The highwayman chuckles and looks at the clothes hanging on the rope:

“I hope you’re not going to wear the black tunic, tonight,” he says, even though the black tunic is Dismas’ favourite, and he absolutely loves to see Reynauld wearing it. Getting it off him is even better:

“I’ll take the red one, like you,” Reynauld announces proudly, polishing his hauberk vigorously.

 

 

_Every positive thought Dismas had about allowing Reynauld to teach him to ride on horseback disappeared the moment the highwayman saw Reynauld ride and try several horses. Those warhorses were… big. Eventually, Reynauld rode a gigantic black horse, all muscle and power and speed, and Dismas, standing at a safe distance from the horses, felt the ground tremble under his feet as the horse trotted and galloped and charged under Reynauld’s command, in a wasteland nearby the Hamlet. Yet he was enchanted by the vision of Reynauld on horseback, by the sheer power and strength emanating from both horse and rider, and he supposed that watching Reynauld charge with his sword drawn at a target would be absolutely terrifying. But that same powerful, terrifying knight was the same who was caring and intimate with the highwayman, and sought comfort in Dismas’ embrace. That thought made the highwayman feel special in a way he had never felt before._

_The black horse was named Ironfeet, because of its enormous hooves with horseshoes. Reynauld deemed it his horse._

 

 

Dismas goes to fetch a bucket in the kitchen and goes back outside. He plans to collect a few vegetables and make soup with them – unlike Reynauld, he can cook for survival. Reynauld is still happily polishing his armour, and Dismas can’t resist to kiss him again, nibble at his neck, run his fingers through his hair – now very stylish.

He then goes to the small garden… and stops, narrowing his eyes:

“Reynauld!” he calls, crossing his arms. Reynauld looks up at him. “There’s a praying-mantis on my cauliflower!”

Reynauld bursts out laughing, booming and full-heartedly. He puts his armour aside, stands up and walks to the tree. On the ground next to it there are several sticks, and he picks up one and strides to the garden, holding the stick like a sword:

“Fear not, my love!” he exclaims, still laughing because Dismas is clearly embarrassed with the situation. “I shall remove this monster from your cauliflower!”

“We’ll see who laughs, when we go back to the lavender field…” Dismas grumbles, because he can’t understand how Reynauld can be afraid of bees… and not of those horrid, nasty praying-mantis. Visibly amused, the knight pokes the praying-mantis with the stick, and the bug gets hold of it. Reynauld then takes the stick with the praying-mantis to the fence and throws it outside. “Maybe if you fixed the fence, the bugs wouldn’t come in!!”

“You want me to build a wall? With a ditch? Watch-towers?” Reynauld replies, the smuggest of smiles on his face, already forgotten about the previous day’s horrors in the shape of bees.

 

 

_“Reynauld…” Dismas called quietly when they returned to the barracks, interrupting Reynauld’s praising of his newest battle steed. “What do you need a warhorse for?”_

_The knight looked at him, surprised, like the highwayman had asked him something ridiculous. Then he smiled and held Dismas’ hands between his:_

_“We need a horse that’s strong enough to take us both and our rewards. A horse that’s fast and resistant, to take us home… somewhere. Anywhere. Also… what if one day we need to plough a field? To grow our own food? We’ll need a strong horse for that.”_

_Dismas widened his eyes. He and Reynauld had talked briefly about… being together, after everything was over. Dismas had remained in the Hamlet, during Reynauld’s recovery, hoping for that. But this was the first time he heard Reynauld actually talk about it, and seemed the knight had big plans, plans of going somewhere with Dismas… build a home. Dismas never had a home._

_The highwayman smiled, at a loss of what to say, and felt a sudden wave of overwhelming affection. His eyes teared up and he felt slightly ridiculous for that, and was very relieved when Reynauld kissed him passionately, instead of just staring at him and eventually realize Dismas was about to burst into tears. Reynauld had been like this, in a good mood and enthusiastic, free from the crusading chains that had dictated his every action. He still had his knightly quirks, and still suffered from nightmares, but still he was… somehow a little different, for better, and Dismas appreciated that Reynauld was like that now._

_The next morning, they strapped their possessions to Ironfeet’s saddle. After a last meeting with the Heiress, Reynauld, dressed in his armour and with the bascinet covering his head, climbed to the saddle and then offered his hand to Dismas, so that he could climb to the gigantic horse’s back. Both scared and nervous and somehow excited about that new experience with Reynauld, Dismas managed to sit behind the saddle and immediately wrapped his arms around Reynauld’s waist. The horse was, indeed, ridiculously big._

_And then Reynauld spurred the horse, that neighed and launched forwards, at an energetic gallop towards the Old Road._

_Reynauld and Dismas, again on the Old Road. But, this time, leaving the formerly cursed estate behind._

 

 

When the weather is good they cook outside, in a campfire. Old habits die hard.

While Reynauld is busy with his armour, Dismas lights a campfire and brings another stool outside, to sit next to the knight while preparing lunch. He too undresses his tunic, exhibiting his naked chest to no one but Reynauld. And so they sit together, Reynauld polishing his armour and Dismas peeling and washing vegetables. The silence between them is comfortable, and there is no need to talk. Whatever there was to say has already been said, earlier in the morning, between kisses and moans and gasps, and whatever needs saying will be said later, in the comfort of each other’s embrace.

Dismas cuts the vegetables into a small cauldron with water and sets it to boil on the campfire, stirring it occasionally. Reynauld has just finished polishing his armour and sword, so Dismas moves from the stool to the ground, between Reynauld’s legs, and rests his head against one of the knight’s thighs. Immediately, Reynauld starts to play with his hair, and Dismas sighs softly, closing his eyes. He loves everyday with Reynauld, but the weekends are special, there is just the two of them, and there is this overwhelming tranquillity that always surprises Dismas, because he never thought someone would be able to feel so… peaceful.

Not after what they had been through.

 

 

_They would spend the day on horseback and stop only at night, to camp by the roadside. There were no monsters or bandits to disturb them, and Dismas and Reynauld relished that new feeling of freedom, of being able to go anywhere together. They slept under the starry sky, taking time to chat and stargaze, holding hands with intertwined fingers._

_One morning they finally left the Old Road behind and chose a secondary road, to the countryside, and after some more hours on horseback the secondary road left the forest and snaked along a moorland. Reynauld stopped the horse abruptly at the beginning of the moorland, sitting very straight in the saddle. His head, covered by the bascinet, looking at a specific point in the distance, and Dismas frowned:_

_“Reynauld?”_

_“I just… I thought I saw something…” The knight pointed his gauntlet-clad hand to the heath covering the far end of the moorland. “There. Something big.”_

_Dismas frowned and narrowed his eyes, looking to where Reynauld was pointing. There was mist hovering above the moorland, and certainly wild animals like rabbits lived there… but indeed, something was moving through the mist, leaving the moorland, something too big to be a rabbit:_

_“I can try and shoot it…” Dismas whispered, suddenly highly alert, though he doubted that this far he would able to hit the target._

_Reynauld spurred Ironfeet forwards, and the horse began to trot softly, its ironclad hooves barely making a sound on the dirt road that snaked through the moorland:_

_“No, let’s follow it…” the knight replied, his voice equally low. “Stay alert, maybe there are more…”_

_They crossed the moorlands, until they arrived at a bifurcation: the right path followed into a combe, and its end was not visible from where Dismas and Reynauld stood; the left path followed through a meadow and, in the distance, there were two small hills, with a village between them and what appeared to be a castle on the top of one of the hills:_

_“There!” Dismas exclaimed, pointing at the road that leaded to the village. Something was almost reaching the village, but it was too far and neither Dismas or Reynauld could make out what kind of creature was approaching the village. Or creatures, seemed there was more than one._

_Reynauld spurred Ironfeet and the horse darted along the road, galloping with large and imposing strides. Dismas held onto Reynauld’s waist with doubled strength and yelped as the horse repeatedly shook his body in a very uncomfortable way._

_Bells began to rang with desperate urgency and a column of smoke rose from the village ahead. Dismas frowned:_

_“Stop the horse, stop the horse!” he told Reynauld, and the knight pulled the reins, immobilizing his warhorse, and glanced over his shoulder. “We should turn back. That’s none of our business.”_

_“There are innocent lives at stake! I am bound by duty to aid those in need!” Reynauld exclaimed, outraged at Dismas’ suggestion, and unsheathed his longsword. The highwayman frowned and shook his head:_

_“Reynauld, I thought your crusade was over!” he argued, feeling hurt. What about finding their home, had Reynauld forgotten about it??_

_“It is, but I am a knight, I have duties!” Reynauld looked ahead again. “You can dismount if you prefer not to fight and wait here for me.”_

_Dismas narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He was no coward to refuse a fight. Besides, someone had to make sure Reynauld would be fine. He held onto Reynauld’s waist, stubbornly, and the knight spurred the horse into gallop again._

_As they approached the village, they could hear people screaming in fear and see them running in a panic, amidst upturned tables and spilled goods of what had probably been a market. There was smoke and the stench of burning wood._

_And, chasing after the fleeing crowd, a ghoul and a gargoyle:_

_“Put me down, I can’t shoot from here!” Dismas said, raising his voice so that Reynauld could hear him:_

_“One for each!” Reynauld stopped the horse and Dismas clumsily jumped to the ground, nearly losing his balance in the process. He hurried to prepare his pistols, and Reynauld spurred his horse into galloping again in a large circle around Dismas and the monsters._

_The gargoyle was the first to notice Dismas, and with a terrifying screech flew at him. The ghoul growled and launched at Reynauld._

_The highwayman waited for the gargoyle to be close enough, and when it was, he shot at it, hitting it in the eye and in the head. The monster screeched, beating its wings furiously and stopping in the air, giving Dismas time to reload and shoot again, this time at the wings, piercing them, compromising the creature’s ability to fly. As for the ghoul, it was trampled down by Ironfeet, terrified but still obeying Reynauld’s commands, and with the monster secured under the horse’s hooves Reynauld had little trouble in giving it a death blow._

_Since he had gotten rid of his monster this soon, Reynauld decided to help Dismas, who had already prevented the monster from flying and was now attempting to stab it. But the creature was small and moved quickly, clawing at Dismas, and Reynauld fixed the problem by trampling down the gargoyle with Ironfeet:_

_“This one was mine, you greedy knight!” the highwayman complained half-heartedly; Reynauld’s kleptomania was gone… but seemed he still had the very bad habit of wanting all the enemies for himself._

_Reynauld stopped the horse and turned it around, tilting his head to the side. The people had stopped running away and many and stopped on their tracks, watching the fight, and were now looking with silent admiration to the highwayman and to the crusader. Especially to Reynauld._

_But there was a high-pitched screech, more screaming and people running, and from a smoke-filled alley came a chevalier. Dismas and Reynauld had only heard tales of those creatures, and had never found one in the dungeons._

_Now one stood before them, one of the few monsters that had survived and fled following the destruction of their lair. Dismas immediately reloaded his pistols, but Reynauld sheathed his sword:_

_“That spear, give it to me!” he ordered the highwayman:_

_“Are you kidding? Look at that thing, you can’t charge against it!” Dismas complained, but gave Reynauld the spear that was abandoned on the ground, not far from them. Much to his surprise, the knight laughed:_

_“It’s just like jousting! I must hit it first!” Reynauld explained and spurred Ironfeet into charging. The horse let out a battle neigh and launched forwards, the ground trembling under its ironclad hooves, Reynauld slightly bent forwards, over its neck, holding the reins with a hand and the spear with the other. And the chevalier advanced to Reynauld, its jaws wide open and its limbs clawing greedily the air towards Reynauld._

_Dismas still shot at it twice, because if that thing stretched its limbs completely, it would push Reynauld off his horse much before the knight managed to reach the perfect distance to hit it with the spear. The trick worked, and while the creature screeched again and turned its attention to Dismas, it opened its limbs, becoming an easy target for Reynauld, who thrust the spear into the creature’s unprotected chest and escaped its claws thanks to Ironfeet’s speed._

_The highwayman watched, marvelled, as Reynauld turned the horse around and unsheathed his sword again, advancing once more to the dying monster. Reynauld, on horseback and wielding his sword, his mail and bascinet and armour pieces shining despite the smoke surrounding them, was a terrifying and breath-taking sight._

_He killed the chevalier, cutting its throat with his sword, then stopped Ironfeet and the horse pranced, neighing, causing Dismas and the crowd that in the meantime had gathered around them and the dead monsters to step back._

_Reynauld dismounted with ease and sheathed his sword again. He quickly inspected his horse, but it had only a few scratches on its muscular chest from the ghoul, and it didn’t even bleed that much. He then looked at Dismas, and the highwayman just knew he was asking him if he was fine. Dismas nodded once, and Reynauld relaxed visibly._

 

 

Dismas can’t talk Reynauld out of washing their soup bowls, and he watches with resigned amusement as the knight spills water in the kitchen floor as he enthusiastically washes the bowls. When there is a lake in the kitchen floor, Reynauld gets the mop and turns the lake into a sea, making Dismas sigh and remind him that they still need to braid Ironfeet, and bathe, and get dressed, and as soon as possible because Marigold is going to show up in the evening. So Reynauld goes to brush his horse, Dismas mops the kitchen floor dry and then, like going to the gallows, joins Reynauld in the stable to help him braid his warhorse.

 

 

_The village was property of an old baronet who brought Reynauld and Dismas to his presence, in his castle-like manor at the top on one of the hills. The man was thin and small, fragile, with long white hair and long white beard. He appeared to be kind and modest, judging by the lack of jewellery and the sober decoration of his house, especially the dining hall where Reynauld and Dismas had been brought to. But dinner was served to them, and Dismas noticed with satisfaction that at least the food was fancy and plenty:_

_“I must thank you, sir knight, for your service!” the baronet exclaimed and wanted to pour wine into Reynauld’s cup. But Reynauld never touched alcohol and simply shook his head:_

_“It is my duty to help those in need,” Reynauld said, then placed a hand on Dismas’ shoulder. “But I did not work alone. My friend helped me.”_

_The old baronet looked at Dismas, and so did the guards who had escorted them and remained in the room. They had thought the highwayman was just a squire._

_Dismas kept looking at his dish, uncomfortable. He didn’t mind Reynauld taking all the credit and attention, really. He had never been looked at – especially by guards – for good reasons, and all those eyes on him made him feel insecure and brought an urgent need of disappearing in the woods. Besides, it was only logical that everyone would carry forever in their minds the image of Reynauld, riding his black warhorse, slaying the monsters. It was fantastic, and people liked fantastic things:_

_“Of course,” the baronet replied finally, and since Reynauld didn’t want wine, offered some to Dismas. Dismas smirked, because he wasn’t picky when it came to drinking. “But sir, please, name a prize. Anything.”_

_“I have noticed your guard has few men and they are incapable of defending your estate,” Reynauld stated. His head was bare and he looked around, and no guard was able to sustain eye-contact with him. “Allow me to provide you with decent troops. My friend-“ And he placed again his hand on Dismas’ shoulder. “-is an expert marksman. We’ll provide you with men able to fight with swords and firearms.”_

_The baronet was over the moon, because Sir Reynauld – a knight, a crusader, a baron!, and therefore a man who outranked him both in social status and sheer importance – was showing undeserved generosity. The old baronet could only thank the knight, his voice trembling with emotion, and promise him he would have everything he needed during his stay._

_Dismas, on the other hand, wasn’t pleased; what about the quest for their home? Reynauld wasn’t wearing his crusader tunic anymore, hadn’t the knight-errand days came to an end??_

_After dinner, Reynauld and Dismas were guided by a guard to one of the many chambers in the manor. The chamber assigned to them was small but comfortable, with two beds and tapestries hanging on every wall, hiding the cold stone:_

_“Do you gentlemen wish a bath?” the guard that guided them asked. “I can call one of the maids to prepare it for you.”_

_Reynauld and Dismas looked at each other, a sudden tension coming from Reynauld. They had never had the chance to be like that, alone in privacy, see each other completely naked. Dismas knew Reynauld wasn’t ready for it. So, he just shook his head:_

_“I’m fine, I had a bath last week…” he told the guard, who raised his eyebrows. Reynauld nodded, making Dismas’ answer his as well, and the guard simply shrugged and walked away._

_They closed the chamber door, looked around, and Reynauld cleared his throat nervously:_

_“Dismas…” he called softly, unable to look Dismas in the eye. “Do… do you want to… to share a bed… or… sleep on your own bed…?”_

_Dismas’ face lighted up with a smile and he decided not to ask Reynauld about the quest for their home. He cupped the knight’s face and kissed his lips softly:_

_“I want to sleep with you,” he said._

_Their clothes stayed on, but that was nothing. Being in each other’s arms, so close and relaxed in a soft bed, meant much more. They snuggled against each other and had the chance to caress each other, with no worries, and tell each other loving words._

 

 

Dismas grudgingly allows Reynauld to shave his face and, when the knight is done, the highwayman gropes his face in the hopes of feeling any remains of his much beloved stubble. But there is none, and there will be none until the following day, and Dismas can’t believe Reynauld has the patience to shave every morning:

“You look younger, that scar looks bigger…” Reynauld compliments, holds Dismas’ hands and pulls him seductively to the bathtub. Dismas rolls his eyes, they get in the water and sit down, their legs tangled:

“My charm is gone…” he complains, and the knight laughs, bents forward and kisses him passionately to assure him otherwise, traces the scar crossing Dismas’ lips with his tongue.

 

 

_The next morning, ridiculously early, Reynauld dragged a sleepy Dismas out of bed, taking non-stop about his big plans to improve the baronet’s guard._

_Dismas wasn’t aware of breakfast, and only when they went outside, to the village, did he fully wake up:_

_“What are we doing?” he asked the knight as they walked side by side in the village. Construction works were happening all around them to repair the damage caused by the fire and the monsters’ bodies had been removed. The smoke was gone, and so was the stench of burning wood, and the village actually looked very nice and peaceful, but a bit too crowded for Dismas’ liking. He kept close to Reynauld as they walked:_

_“We are going to recruit! The guard cannot be exclusive to the nobility! It must be for all!” Reynauld nodded, thoughtful. “I have seen slaves more worthy of a nobility title than many nobles, Dismas.”_

_The highwayman believed Reynauld. He looked around, to their surroundings, and couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated at the openly interested looks the local women cast at Reynauld, walking around with his armour but with no bascinet covering his head._

_The villagers saluted them, being especially friendly with Reynauld. Some cast odd glances to Dismas, and the highwayman heard a man commenting to his friend that he had the impression of having seen Dismas’ face before._

 

 

There is a knock at the bedroom door:

“Sir Reynauld? Master Dismas? Are you decent?” Marigold asks from the other side of the door:

“Yes, yes we are!” Dismas replies, pulling the strings of his tunic closed, so that his cleavage isn’t showing. “It happens once a year, and it’s your lucky day!”

Dismas walks to the door and opens it. He then widens his eyes in sheer horror, and Marigold frowns and tilts her head, a salute never having the chance to go past her lips:

“Reynauld!” Dismas calls, grabs Marigold’s arms and drags her to the kitchen, where he makes her sit on a stool. “Reynauld, an emergency!”

The knight emerges from their bedroom, still pulling the red tunic over his hauberk, stops in his tracks and widens his eyes in sheer horror as well:

“By the Light, Marigold… what have they done to you??” he whispers.

Marigold’s wild and wavy red hair is caught in a ridiculously large bun at the top of her head, her freckled face has heavy make-up and the puffy ball gown makes her look chubbier and shorter than what she is in fact:

“Why are you looking at me like that??” the young woman finally asks, clueless. “Mom said I would make men speechless, but I wasn’t expecting that from you two!!”

 

 

_Days went by, Reynauld’s recruiting campaign revealed to be successful and training begun. However, Dismas was becoming annoyed. It was all taking too long. He wanted to leave and find a home for him and Reynauld. But the knight was very enthusiastic about training those men, and, being so rigorous, Dismas realized it would take a long, long time._

_It hurt and angered him, and he became cold to Reynauld. In the beginning the knight didn’t even notice, but then he did and tried to understand what was going on. Dismas told him, they had an argument because Reynauld could not just leave like that, he had knightly duties and a man of Dismas’ condition – a highwayman – would not understand, and Dismas accused Reynauld of having lied to him about their future together and of being ashamed of Dismas’ company._

_From that day on they slept in separate beds, their backs turned at each other, and avoided talking to each other as much as they could._

 

 

Kneeling in front of Marigold, Dismas wipes her face clean with a wet cloth and Reynauld, standing behind her, undoes the offensive hairstyle and begins to braid the young woman’s red hair:

“It’s just like braiding a horse…” he comments casually. “Last year you were not such a disgrace, what happened?”

“Mom says I need to find a husband…” Marigold complains as Dismas rummages through the contents of her small purse, frowning:

“You looked like a scarecrow, who’d want to marry a scarecrow???” the highwayman says, shocked, and from the purse produces what looks like a pencil. “What’s this??”

“I have no idea, mom just said I always needed to carry that around to retouch my make-up…” Marigold replies and shrugs. Reynauld stops braiding her hair and moves to stand by Dismas’ side:

“Eyeliner, to put around the eyes. And that thing there is powder blush, for the cheeks, and that’s lipstick,” he explains, pointing the items inside the small purse, and that earns him a curious look from both Dismas and Marigold. The knight blushes slightly and clears his throat. “I… I had a wife…”

Marigold nods, understanding, then smiles widely:

“I’m glad you have Master Dismas, now!”

 

 

_Reynauld was telling the baronet about the progress he was making with the guard when two of the new recruits burst into the meeting room securing Dismas by the arms. The highwayman was bleeding from his nose and his face was flushed, and the recruits had black eyes and one even missed a tooth:_

_“My lords, he’s that highwayman from the posters!!” one of the recruits said and forced Dismas to his knees once they were close enough to the baronet and Reynauld. “The one that has a prize on his head! I knew I had seen his face somewhere before!”_

_Reynauld widened his eyes and looked down at Dismas, shock written all over his face. He had completely forgotten about Dismas’ past, even though he had recently thrown at his face that he was just a highwayman. Dismas had told Reynauld about his crimes… but he had never mentioned he was wanted like that!! The knight felt betrayed and furious and hurt, because Dismas hadn’t needed to hide that from him. Not after what they had been through. Besides, part of Reynauld felt ashamed, his pride worrying terribly for his reputation._

_Despite the hurt, Reynauld would not stand by and watch Dismas be humiliated like that:_

_“Release the highwayman now!” he growled in his most authoritative voice, and the recruits let go of Dismas immediately. He then looked at the baronet, glaring daggers at the old, confused man. “He is my friend! He has already paid for his crimes and will pay no more! This is outrageous, we shall depart immediately, and cursed be you and your estate!”_

_The baronet joined his hands in prayer and opened his mouth to speak, but one of the recruits dared to speak first:_

_“But sir Reynauld, the highwayman has-“_

_The recruit didn’t finish his complaint. All it took was the most menacing stare Dismas had ever seen from Reynauld, and the recruit seemed to shrink into his uniform:_

_“The highwayman has fought unspeakable horrors with me, in the estate at the end of the Old Road. He has paid for his crimes, and has showed me he is much more worthy than many people I have met. You, for example,” Reynauld growled, and a heavy silence descended on the meeting room. Reynauld then looked at the baronet again. “We are leaving. My horse is to be saddled immediately!”_

_Rudely, he pulled Dismas up and, still holding his shoulder in an iron grip, leaded him out of the meeting room, through the corridors and into their chamber. He slammed the door shut behind them and finally let go of the highwayman:_

_“A prize on your head, uh?” he hissed angrily, narrowing his eyes, and Dismas instantly reached for his daggers. “Why didn’t you tell me?? At least, it would have prepared me for such embarrassment!!” Reynauld clenched his jaw, hurt, but Dismas stepped back, like he had been physically hit:_

_“I am sorry, your highness, my humble company has harmed your unblemished reputation!” the highwayman grunted._

_Reynauld opened his mouth to speak, but someone knocked at the door. With a sigh, he turned his back at Dismas and opened the door, and there stood the baronet, fidgeting with his fingers and tired old eyes reddened with tears:_

_“Sir Reynauld, please, it is a terrible misunderstanding…! Those men shall be punished by their offence! Please, don’t go… I have no heirs, little possessions, no means to assure the safety of my villagers…!” He peeked into the room, looking at Dismas. “Master Dismas, please, I will give you anything to appease this incident!”_

_Reynauld looked over his shoulder to Dismas, and the highwayman just knew the knight was decided to leave._

_The highwayman grinned in a wolfish way and stepped forwards, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was hurt, and angry, and felt betrayed by the person he trusted the most and cared for the most:_

_“I noticed your village lacks a candle shop,” he told the baronet, who frowned in confusion. “I have the money, but do you have a vacant space I can use?”_

_“There is a house on the top of the other hill, the owner has recently passed away. He was old, had no family…” the baronet replied, hopeful, and looked to Reynauld. Dismas looked at the knight as well, still grinning:_

_“Because I’m a good man, I’ll improve the local economy… even if the villagers want the prize on my head,” he announced, then looked at the baronet again. “But I won’t train your guard anymore.”_

_The baronet just nodded, promising he would make a decree on how Dismas was innocent and was a respectable citizen. He kept looking at Reynauld, begging, hoping that the highwayman’s decision to stay would influence the knight, since they were such close friends._

_Reynauld balled his fists, clenched his jaw, ended up nodding. He would keep training the baronet’s guard._

_But seemed he and the highwayman would now follow different paths._

 

 

While Reynauld finishes Marigold’s braid, Dismas remakes her makeup, making a much thinner line on her upper eyelids with the eyeliner:

“Your mother is going to kill us once she lays eyes on you…” Dismas grumbles, decides for not even using the powder blush because Marigold’s freckles are adorable, and paints her lips with the lipstick once, so that it doesn’t have such a punching bright red colour:

“Why? She looks perfect now!” Reynauld complains as he comes to stand beside Dismas, admiring their work. Marigold smiles and puffs her chest, delighted:

“We are buying you a proper dress, next time… One that doesn’t look like it’s eating you…” the highwayman grunts. Reynauld nudges him, because that wasn’t polite, but Marigold bursts out laughing:

“I told mom the exact same thing about the dress!!” she cackles, clapping her hands:

“You are perfect and I am sure everyone will think so,” Reynauld nods, secretly delighted about his own plan to set up Marigold and Raymond.

Marigold has a smile too large to be humanly possible and she stands up, smooths the dress, then looks attentively to the two men standing before her. She starts to giggle:

“You’ve got the same hairstyle and you’re both wearing red tunics, that’s so cute!” she states fondly:

“Damn it girl, we’re not cute…” Dismas grumbles:

“Master Dismas, can you make me a hairstyle like yours?” Marigold asks, enthusiastic, and Dismas laughs:

“Yeah, on your wedding day!” he promises, and that earns him a frown from Reynauld, who is about to state that Marigold’s hair is too beautiful to be cut short:

“You promise??” Marigold asks excitedly, not giving Reynauld a chance to compliment her hair. Dismas grins from ear to ear, already imagining Marigold’s mother fainting in shock:

“Promise,” he says solemnly, and Reynauld frowns even more.

 

 

_The house on the other hill, across the village, had an empty stable that still had untouched straw bales, a small backyard covered in weeds and delimited by a decrepit fence and, as the front of the house, a space that had worked as a shop of some sorts; it had a wooden counter dividing the room, and a wooden workbench, and several shelves for display. But the shop space was dusty, the floor needed a good scrub and the windows needed to be washed. The house space itself wasn’t as abandoned as the shop, though._

_And even though the house was small, when Dismas stood alone in the hall that served as connection for the stable, bedroom, kitchen and shop… it felt too big and empty. And for a moment, Dismas just wanted to run away, go somewhere distant, do what he did best… but he was tired of running._

_Shutting his emotions the best he could, Dismas thought about what needed to be done; he needed to get parchment and writing material first, to write down everything he remembered about candle-making so that he wouldn’t forget anything, and to better list everything that needed doing. He would also need to build wood structures specifically for candle-making, so he would need wood and tools… and he needed wax… and that shop had to be cleaned... and he needed a sign for his shop…_

_The first night Dismas spent in the house, curled in the middle of the bed, he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts, though he forced them to stay focused on candles and on business plans, were constantly going back to Reynauld, to the pretty illusion he had stupidly lived. Of course, being a knight and doing knight things meant much more to Reynauld than being with… a highwayman. And this thought hurt, and Dismas cursed himself for having let Reynauld close, and cursed himself double for diving head-first into that candle-making nonsense just to prove everyone – Reynauld, the village, himself – that he could be more than just a highwayman, a bandit, a murderer._

_The next morning, Dismas went to the village. No coat, no scarf, no pistols… though he hid a dagger in a boot. The first place he visited was the local honey shop; he needed wax, and for that he needed honeycombs. At first, the shop owner didn’t want to make business with him, but the moment Dismas placed a small bag full of coins over the counter, the shop owner immediately accepted the deal to provide a certain number of honeycombs monthly, in exchange of a bag just like that. The second place Dismas visited was the blacksmith, where he ordered a sign, and the last place was the woodwork shop, where he bought wood and tools._

_Dismas focused on working and slowly that numbed all his emotions. But he considered it was better to be an automat that being broken-hearted._

_He would go to the market sometimes to buy food, avoiding the best he could the times of the day the market was more heavily crowded. At first, nobody interacted with him, many even walked away. But as weeks gone by the decree about his good citizenship came out, the people got used to him, understood he wasn’t there to harm them. A few curious people asked him about the cursed estate at the end of the Old Road, but he was evasive, never telling much. An old man selling pumpkins told Dismas he had looked like him, in his younger days. It even became recurrent to hear young women commenting his looks, how they liked his roughness. It also was recurrent to hear some other young women telling their enthusiastic friends he wasn’t the right type of man, or they weren’t the type of women for a man like him._

_But to all that Dismas was indifferent, and all he could think about was working and getting his shop started. The local tavern? Dismas didn’t even want to acknowledge its existence._

_It took him a month to build all the devices he needed, then he began to fabricate the candles. His first attempts didn’t come out that good and he had to melt the wax again to re-shape the candles._

_One morning, when he had just sat at the workbench to start working, someone knocked on the door. The shop door was the only entrance to both shop and house, though one also could get in the house through the stables. Dismas’ heart skipped a beat, and for a moment he hoped it was Reynauld; maybe the knight missed him, maybe he wanted to apologise, maybe he still cared…_

_Stumbling on his stool as he stood up, Dismas trotted to the door and opened it._

_Before him stood a young woman, short and chubby, with long red hair and freckles, dressed with a loose tunic, breeches and short boots. She carried a huge smile, that faltered after looking at Dismas:_

_“Uh… hi…” she saluted. “I’m Marigold! But maybe… is this a bad time…?”_

_Dismas sighed, summoning patience and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Of course it wasn’t Reynauld… He leaned against the doorframe:_

_“I’m busy,” he grunted. Marigold smiled again, apparently relieved that he was just busy and she had merely interrupted him:_

_“I heard you’re opening a candle shop?” Dismas nodded. “Can I help? I want to learn something, but I don’t want to be a housemaid, and the blacksmith said I couldn’t, and I nearly cut the woodworker’s hand off, and-“ She went on and on about the professions she had tried to apprentice and had either failed gloriously or had been denied or had been expulsed from._

_The highwayman just stared at her, annoyed. He didn’t care. He wasn’t interested. He didn’t want anyone else around him. Reynauld had been enough proof that he couldn’t let people close to him. He shook his head:_

_“I’m sorry, I’m not interested…” he grumbled. Marigold’s smile died, and she began to fidget with her fingers. Her fingernails were badly bitten:_

_“But…” she tried sheepishly. “I… I don’t want anything in return, I just want to learn…”_

_Dismas rolled his eyes, irritated. He didn’t have the patience for this:_

_“You learn in school, I guess,” he replied and prepared to close the door. Marigold just looked at him, and her face changed drastically when she wasn’t smiling. She just nodded, defeated, turned her back and began to walk away._

_The highwayman watched her go, frowning. Poor girl, but it was none of his business. He didn’t want anyone close to him again. But on the other hand… he had had a chance to redeem himself, start anew… he, a murderer. And that girl was having absolutely no chance, and she obviously wasn’t a murderer. Dismas groaned, feeling a headache coming, and stepped out of the shop:_

_“Hey!” he called. The girl stopped and glanced over her shoulder, surprised._

 

 

Reynauld brings Ironfeet to the front of the house and climbs to the saddle. He then stretches his hand to Marigold, who giggles, delighted, and is hauled up. She sits the best she can with that puffy dress, then Reynauld offers his hand to Dismas, who lets out a defeated sigh and climbs to the horse as well:

“You’ll arrive in triumph!” Reynauld tells Marigold as he spurs Ironfeet into gallop. The horse launches forward and the young woman laughs, delighted, and Dismas clutches to Reynauld’s waist for dear life. The sun is setting and, in the big church yard, the people of the village are already gathering for the annual party and for the ball.

 

 

_Marigold was a disaster at candle-making, but Dismas liked her company. He liked her, period: she was very genuine and extremely innocent, she did try her best to be a good apprentice but talked non-stop, and Dismas couldn’t do much besides growing fond of her. In a way, her determination and tomboyness reminded him of the adventurous women he had met on the cursed estate._

_Another month gone by, and the weather began to cool. Soon, Dismas would have enough candles in storage to open the shop and sell comfortably without running short on candles, and that also gave him time to keep producing._

_One day, in the evening, he accompanied Marigold to the village; she was going home and he needed to buy something to eat, so they made their way downhill together, Marigold chatting animatedly and Dismas patiently listening to her. It was getting dark, so just by precaution, Dismas was carrying his pistols._

_They had just arrived to the village when a group of guards on horseback walked past them. Marigold sighed, dreamingly:_

_“I’d love to ride on horseback…” she said. Dismas shrugged:_

_“You can always apply to the guard,” he suggested. Marigold looked at him, frowning:_

_“But then who’d help you in the shop, Master Dimas? And who’d remind you to have lunch??”_

_“You’re exaggerating, I can take care of myself!” Dismas chuckled, looked again at the guards…_

_And there was Reynauld, who stopped his big black warhorse and shifted slightly in the saddle to look at him. Reynauld, his head bare, with a black tunic over his hauberk._

_Dismas’ and Reynauld’s eyes met for a moment, until the highwayman grabbed Marigold’s arm and turned around, towards the church, slightly out of the village, instead of following the main street to the market and to her house:_

_“I need to stretch my legs…” Dismas grunted, speeding up a bit, forcing Marigold into a trot to keep up with him:_

_“You know sir Reynauld, don’t you??” Marigold asked in awe, and hearing Reynauld’s name felt a bit like being punched:_

_“How do you even know his name??”_

_“Every woman in the village talks about him! He’s a knight, a real knight! He defeated those monsters from months ago and he’s just so handsome!” Marigold giggled. “Mom adores sir Reynauld, she’s always talking about him!”_

_“Every woman in the village? But I had admirers…” Dismas grunted without feeling, and of course everybody liked Reynauld, and of course he defeated the monsters, and of course he was handsome… Dismas shook his head and stopped, placing a hand on Marigold’s shoulder. He looked at her seriously, but something other than his serious expression made her stop smiling. “Listen here, girl… not all that glitters is gold. Keep that in mind.”_

_Marigold simply stared at him, then nodded slowly. They proceeded, in silence._

_It was already dark when they reached the church yard. People were coming out, the mass had finished, and Marigold saw her parents and siblings in the crowd and waved at them enthusiastically, dragging Dismas behind her. The highwayman didn’t want to go, the last thing he wanted was to make small talk with Marigold’s mother – who didn’t like him at all…_

_And suddenly, everything turned into a fuss: people began to scream and run, there were squeals and grunts and the sound of weapons slashing flesh. And the church yard was invaded by a handful of swine warriors, more beasts that had escaped the destruction of the Heart of Darkness._

_Dismas instantly reached for his pistols, hidden by his overcoat, and stepped in front of Marigold and her family, shielding them the best he could:_

_“Go home, quick!” he shouted at them, glancing quickly over his shoulder, then aiming and firing against a coming swine chopper._

_Chaos ensued. All Dismas could tell was that there were people screaming, running and swine warriors going after them… but slowly changing their attention to him. He just hoped Marigold and her family were already running away, and not standing behind him._

_He had to reload and a swine approached him too quickly, swinging its mace at Dismas’ head. The highwayman dodged, but lost his balance and when the mace came again at him, it hit him hard in an arm. Dismas screamed as an excruciating pain in his arm made him lose his strength to stand and to hold one of his pistols. He fell to his knees, shot at the swine chopper but missed; he was out of practice._

_His opponent hit him in the head with the hilt of its dagger and Dismas fell to the ground wailing in pain. Dismas tried to regain focus, reach out for the pistol he had let go of, shoot again…_

_There was the uproar of ironclad hooves on cobblestone, the neighing of horses, the unsheathing of swords and battle cries. Dismas, lying on the ground, could only see the legs of a gigantic black horse passing behind the swine chopper, and then the monster falling lifeless, its beheaded head rolling away from its body:_

_“Reynauld, you greedy knight…” Dismas muttered, shutting his eyes closed, trying to regain some self-control. His arm hurt terribly, his head seemed about to explode and he could feel blood dripping down his forehead. Still, he pushed himself up and looked around; guards on horseback were slaying the swine warriors, but Reynauld and his horse stood still not far from Dismas. Reynauld’s head was covered by a great helm, and much to his dismay Dismas couldn’t help but find it much more attractive than the bascinet._

_Seeing Dismas was alive, Reynauld spurred Ironfeet and joined the other guards. Dismas just stood there, in the middle of the chaos, sitting on the ground and clutching to his arm. But there were still swine warriors alive, dodging the horses and attacking them to bring their riders down, and with a grunt of pain Dismas let go of his arm, picked up his pistols and scrambled to his feet._

_He began to shoot again. By the corner of his eye, he noticed Reynauld has dismounted and was fighting a gigantic swine. Dismas shot at it, hitting it on the side, and Reynauld trespassed the monster with his longsword._

_But the world was swinging a bit, and even though Dismas wanted to keep shooting at the swines, he eventually had to sit down again, this time clutching to his bleeding head. The chaos around him began to fade, and the highwayman wondered if he would end up fainting:_

_“Dismas!” It was Reynauld’s voice. Dismas looked to his right, where the knight was at some distance. He was running to him. Yet… something wasn’t right. Dismas narrowed his eyes, maybe he was indeed fainting… but no, the monster Reynauld had been fighting with was still alive, had stood up and was stumbling after Reynauld:_

_“Behind you!” Dismas yelled, feeling a sudden dread._

_The knight stopped, turned around and saw the swine attacking him with a big knife with a jagged blade. He thrusted his sword into the monster’s stomach, causing it to halt suddenly with a terrifying squeal. But still the swine managed to brandish its knife, slash at Reynauld’s neck with it before falling dead._

_Dismas widened his eyes as Reynauld clutched to his neck and fell to his knees, letting go of his sword._

 

 

Reynauld stops Ironfeet by a makeshift fence around the church yard, where other few horses have been tied to by the reins. Dismas hurriedly jumps to the ground and wobbles away. Marigold laughs and Reynauld helps her down:

“Riding on horseback is so nice!” she exclaims, and Dismas casts her a murderous glare:

“No, it is not!” he groans. Reynauld jumps to the ground with elegance and ties Ironfeet’s reins to the makeshift fence:

“You don’t know how to appreciate the good things of life, Dismas…” Reynauld comments, then puts a hand on Marigold’s shoulder, smiling. “Enjoy yourself. And if someone bothers you-“

“Stab them immediately!” Dismas advises with a toothy grin, because he knows Marigold followed his advice of always carrying a pocketknife – a gift from him – with her. Reynauld grimaces, but says nothing.

Marigold darts off to her group of friends, who have been watching her glorious arrival. Dismas joins Reynauld and they both walk to the gathered villagers, walking side-by-side; Dismas hates this part, the greetings and small-talk, but Reynauld is worshiped in the village and he does enjoy to socialize with the villagers. The baronet is attending to the party and ball as well, and there are armed guards all around.

Dismas can’t help but chuckle, because sooner or later Reynauld **will** transform an annual party and ball into a tournament.

The night is falling, fresh but pleasant. There is beer and roasted pork and the minstrels are warming up for later, for the ball. The sound of laughter and animated chatting fills the air. It is somewhat terrifyingly different from the cursed estate.

 

 

_It was a long night for Dismas._

_In the manor’s infirmary, surrounded by the pained wails of wounded villagers and guards, he watched, while a nurse cleaned the blood from the injury on his head, as another nurse stitched a long gash extending from the place where Reynauld’s neck met his shoulder to the middle of his chest. They were sitting side by side on the same bed, and even though they tried to avoid it, they ended up looking at each other: Reynauld, glancing at Dismas’ injured head and at the broken arm hanging on his chest; Dismas, glancing at Reynauld’s nearly stitched gash._

_Dismas was forced to spend the night in the infirmary, because of his head injury. Reynauld was asked whether he wanted to stay or leave to his private chambers, and, suspiciously, the knight opted to stay. The nurses gave Dismas painkillers, and for some blessed hours, Dismas was able to simply lie on his back, staring at the ceiling, completely numb._

_Yet by dawn the painkillers faded away, and the pain was back with tripled strength. That didn’t stop the highwayman, however, from getting dressed and leaving._

_The cold morning air against his face felt extremely soothing, and the silence and mist and the distant sunrise gave Dismas the impression of being in a dream. He was still feeling miraculously numb from his encounter with Reynauld, and thankfully his mind wasn’t forcing him to see over and over again Reynauld falling, clutching to his neck. All too similar to Reynauld lying, bleeding profusely, in the dark._

_Dismas finally reached his house and raised his eyebrows in surprise; wrapped in an oversized coat, Marigold was sitting at the front door. When she noticed him, she jumped to her feet and ran to him:_

_“No no no no, my arm’s broken!!!” Dismas warned when her intentions became clear; she wanted to hug him! However, Dismas’ broken arm was no excuse; Marigold embraced him anyway, making him grunt and whimper in pain:_

_“I’m so glad you’re alright, Master Dismas!!!” the young woman exclaimed, meaning every word, and Dismas sighed, grimaced, patted her head awkwardly. “You saved me and my family!”_

_“Yeah, well, someone’s got to help me with the candles, right?” Dismas replied. But this time, he had the rightful credits for his work. Marigold looked up at him and smiled widely, and Dismas smiled back and winked at her. “Come on, you have a lot of work to do.”_

_Marigold didn’t mind about having extra work, now that Dismas had a broken arm and still had a slight but annoying headache. They got in the shop, Marigold melted more wax and began to work on moldable candles that had been left the day before:_

_“I heard horses, yesterday. When my family and I ran,” Marigold told quietly, surprising Dismas; she never spoke so quietly. They were sitting on stools, side by side, and Marigold interrupted her work and looked at him. “Sir Reynauld, I suppose?”_

_“Yes, sir Reynauld,” Dismas replied. But Reynauld hadn’t gone there to save him. No, he had just heard the crowd, he had gone there to aid those in need. Because that was what knights did:_

_“You know him,” It was a statement, and Dismas frowned. Marigold shrugged innocently. “You saw him, when the guards passed by… I noticed it, and then we changed course, and you said that thing about not everything that shines being gold… and you looked so sad and tired, more than the usual, and I’ve never seen you like that…”_

_“I don’t look sad and tired!”_

_“You do, Master Dismas,” Marigold tilted her head and offered him a friendly smile. “Are you friends with sir Reynauld? Are you angry at him?”_

_Dismas opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He considered not even answering, but Marigold was his friend now, and Dismas was tired of running away. He sighed, his shoulders sagging:_

_“Yes, we’re angry at each other… and I don’t know what we are, anymore.”_

 

 

“Master Dismas!” a high-pitched female voice calls, and Dismas can’t help but roll his eyes in annoyance. He turns around, and there she is; a short, chubby woman with red hair and freckles. But this is one is grumpy, a menace to the patience of any good citizen, the scourge of her husband’s late night card games. She is Marigold’s mother, and she is not amused:

“Madam…” Dismas salutes, not even bothering to smile. “What did I do now?”

“You have ruined my daughter’s chances at finding a husband!” the woman complains, waving a menacing index finger in front of Dismas. The highwayman sighs, dramatically:

“The hair? Yes, I’m so sorry, but it was his idea… Reynauld!!” Dismas calls, and the woman’s angry face changes drastically. “Reynauld, come here!”

Reynauld leaves a group of villagers to join Dismas and Marigold’s mother, who giggles and looks extremely happy. Reynauld smiles widely, takes the woman’s hand and kisses its back:

“Milady,” he salutes, and the woman giggles louder. Dismas does his best not to laugh. “Is there anything wrong?”

Marigold’s mother hurries to assure him everything is perfect. Dismas takes the chance and goes somewhere quieter, leaving Reynauld alone to deal with Marigold’s mother. He carries a big, mischievous smile, and makes a mental note to later reward Reynauld for that.

 

 

_At night Dismas couldn’t sleep. There was this pain, this longing inside him, and all he wanted to do was to cry and scream and somehow make it all stop. But he did nothing, simply lied on his back, in the middle of a bed too big for him, staring at the ceiling._

_For breakfast, he had very little. He then went to his shop, to try to advance some work before Marigold’s arrival, but the moment he sat on his stool, someone knocked at the door. He sighed; Marigold didn’t need to come this early, he could take care of himself._

_Tired, he went to the door and opened it, ready to tell Marigold she didn’t need to worry, and that she was going home earlier to make up for having arrived so soon… but it wasn’t Marigold standing there. It was Reynauld. He was carrying no armour, no sword, and had come on foot. His eyes were sunken and he looked pale, and surely with that gash on his neck he shouldn’t have walked all the day from the manor, at the other hill, crossing the village and then going uphill again:_

_“Uh…” Reynauld said eloquently, and couldn’t look Dismas in the eye. “I… Can… can we talk, please?”_

 

 

Reynauld joins Dismas sometime later and brings roasted pork in a wooden plate. They share the meal:

“Look at Marigold… If she marries, we’re buying her the dress,” Dismas says, looking at Marigold from across the still empty dance floor, to where she is standing with her friends. With that dress, Marigold looks like a floating head with arms above a puffy pink cloud. Reynauld nods, then adds, enthusiastically:

“Look, there comes Raymond!” The knight smiles widely and Dismas can’t help but snort, because Reynauld did set up a date for Marigold and Raymond.

Raymond, in the guard’s armour, approaches Marigold, greets her, takes her hand to his lips. Marigold is delighted and Reynauld puffs his chest proudly, irradiating joy:

“Just like I taught him! Raymond would make such a fine knight!” he comments:

“He’s as short as her!” Dismas laughs, and Reynauld frowns:

“The size of a body does not make the size of a heart!” he says, and Dismas looks at him, raises an eyebrow seductively and licks his lips, suggesting the size of something else.

 

 

_Reynauld looked around nervously and Dismas leaned against the counter:_

_“You have a lot of candles,” Reynauld stated, looking at the ready candles Dismas had been piling over the counter:_

_“I’ll put them on the shelves once I clean this place…” he replied:_

_“Do you need help?” Reynauld volunteered, a bit too eagerly, and that made Dismas frown; why was the knight there, and why was he suddenly so nice? Dismas shook his head:_

_“I have an apprentice,” he grunted, and in that same moment someone knocked at the door. “That should be her.”_

_Reynauld just nodded, stepping aside so that Dismas could go open the door:_

_“I see you are busy… Maybe… maybe some other day?” the knight asked:_

_“Yeah…” Dismas grunted and opened the door. And finally, Marigold. She smiled, stepped in… and saw Reynauld. She widened her eyes, then looked back to Dismas, then back to Reynauld. The highwayman sighed, regretting the conversation he had with her the day before. “Marigold, this is… sir Reynauld. But he’s already leaving and-“_

_“I feel suddenly sick, I’ll be back tomorrow!” Marigold squealed, dramatically clinging to her stomach. She turned around and darted off, leaving Dismas and Reynauld alone._

_Dismas shut the door angrily, turned around, bypassed Reynauld and went to sit on his stool:_

_“I’m busy. Get talking,” he snarled._

_Reynauld sighed and decided he should let Dismas cool down a bit. He paced around the shop for a bit, silently, until he decided to approach Dismas. He noticed some parchments on the workbench, handwritten, and smiled, remembering with strange fondness when Dismas had told him he had been taught to read, write and do basic maths:_

_“You misspelled a few things, can I fix them?” Reynauld asked quietly, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Dismas stood up so abruptly the stool he had been sitting on toppled over:_

_“If you came here to tell me your education is much better than mine, and that your handwriting is fancy and mine is just childish and overall remind me I’m just a nuisance of a highwayman, I strongly advise you to get going…” Dismas hissed, and he had meant to sound angry and dangerous, and not on the verge of tears. But he was tired, and hurt, and in pain, and sleep deprived, and hungry and his patience was gone. He just wanted a little peace, wanted to be numb again and start a new life, leave the Old Road and everything before that behind._

_Reynauld just stared at him, wide-eyed, and when he spoke, he too sounded on the verge of tears:_

_“I… it was about that… that I came to talk to you,” he muttered. He took a careful step forwards, to Dismas. “I… I was rude, and arrogant… and I failed you. You, of all people.”_

_Dismas looked away, but looked back to Reynauld quickly when he realized the knight was kneeling down. And, on his knees, Reynauld took his hand between his and looked up at him with wide, scared, teary brown eyes:_

_“I beg your pardon,” he whispered._

_Dismas stared down at Reynauld, petrified. The proud and gallant knight, slayer of monsters, rider of the gigantic black warhorse, the one who had killed the Heart of Darkness… was on his knees, begging the pardon of Dismas, the highwayman. And Dismas’ anger broke, and oh, how he wanted to forgive Reynauld, pull him up and kiss him, tell him he had missed him… but…_

_Reynauld noticed Dismas reluctance, and he understood he had broken the highwayman’s trust. Not only for being arrogant and calling upon their social status… but mainly because he hadn’t kept his word about the future he had promised Dismas. Reynauld looked down, defeated, and let go of Dismas’s hand. He scrambled to his feet, kept looking down so that Dismas wouldn’t notice the tears streaming down his cheeks:_

_“I… I thought I had lost you, when I saw you lying on the ground…” he said, with the steadier voice he could muster. Yet it was still too shaky. “But… in the end… I…”_

_Reynauld stepped back abruptly._

_Dismas shut his eyes; yes, seemed they had a thing for almost loosing each other. He felt a void in the pit of his stomach, and opened his eyes again; Reynauld had already opened the door:_

_“Reynauld!” he called, his voice breaking into a sob._

 

 

Night falls and torches are lit. The minstrels begin to play and sing. Slowly, the first couples take over the dance floor, especially the younger ones. Marigold and Raymond are among them, and Reynauld bounces on the balls of his feet, extremely proud:

“They seem to be getting along,” Dismas comments, and looks for someone in the crowd. “I think Marigold’s mother approves!” he informs, when he sees the woman watching her daughter and the young guard with a smirk:

“Of course she approves, Raymond is the best for Marigold…” Reynauld is going to be smug about this until the end of times, because this is certainly one of the best ideas he ever had. Dismas laughs, shortly, then nudges him quietly:

“Rey, do you want to dance?” he asks, and feels himself blush.

Reynauld looks at him with wide eyes, surprised, and tilts his head:

“But… you’ve always said you can’t…?”

“Blame Marigold…”

“But Dis…” Reynauld lowers his voice and his smile vanishes. “The people…?”

The highwayman looks around. The whole village is here, and the entire guard, and the baronet. But it is no secret he and Reynauld live together, though under the excuse they are only close friends, inseparable companions from the cursed estate at the end of the Old Road. Only Marigold knows their secret, and right now she is having the time of her life dancing with Raymond… even if none of them is a skilled dancer.

Dismas smiles and shakes his head, holds Reynauld’s hand confidently:

“Everyone knows you don’t touch alcohol… but I do.”

 

 

_They held each other tightly, crying and sobbing and shaking. Dismas’ broken arm, sandwiched between his and Reynauld’s chest, was a horribly source of pain. But he ignored it for the sake of being in Reynauld’s arms:_

_“Am I not good enough?” Dismas sobbed finally, his head burrowed on Reynauld’s shoulder, fortunately not the injured one:_

_“It is my fault,” Reynauld replied, running his fingers through Dismas’ hair. “You did nothing wrong, I…” The knight took a deep breath and cupped Dismas’ face gently, thumbing his cheeks. Two fully grown-men, crying their eyes out. “I miss you. I feel empty. Please, let me fix this… be my… my lover… I won’t let you down again, I swear…!”_

 

 

Reynauld, in his armour, is still a much better and much more gracious dancer than Dismas or anyone else in that dance floor. The villagers laugh, surprised to see Dismas and Reynauld pulling that stunt, but they assume the highwayman got drunk and the knight is simply playing along with his friend.

Marigold and Raymond are dancing nearby and they wave enthusiastically at Dismas and Reynauld.

 

 

_They stood like that for a long time, sobbing and whimpering, embracing each other:_

_“I miss you so much…” Reynauld muttered, after pulling himself together just enough to keep talking. “I… I thought of coming to you earlier, but… I thought you’d still be angry, so I… I decided I’d show up when you opened the shop… but… before yesterday, I saw you… then heard the gunshots, and I was so scared I’d be late… that I’d fail you again…”_

_Dismas nuzzled on Reynauld’s neck; so… Reynauld had gone to save him._

 

 

They exchange pairs in the middle of the dance, and Dismas ends up dancing with Marigold while Reynauld ends up dancing with Raymond. Marigold irradiates joy, and she dances a bit better that Dismas:

“He didn’t step on you!” she exclaims and Dismas narrows his eyes. They collide with another couple accidentally and don’t even apologise:

“Have you been spying on me, Marigold?”

They exchange pairs again, and of course that Reynauld has placed himself strategically so that now he is dancing with Marigold and Dismas is dancing with Raymond.

 

 

_Dismas allowed Reynauld to convince him to lie down a bit because of his headache. He ended up falling asleep, and when he woke up and returned to the shop, found that Reynauld had wiped the dust off the shelves, had washed the windows from the inside and had practically flooded the floor in an attempt at mopping it clean._

_The highwayman decided to let Reynauld help him with the candles, but he was even worse that Marigold. Dismas then decided that Reynauld could hold the candles for him as he decorated them, making engravings and textures with a small knife:_

_“You’re… very good at this!” Reynauld whispered in awe. He had never imagined Dismas could make something so beautiful and delicate. The highwayman smiled:_

_“Really?” he asked. Next to him Reynauld nodded and kissed his forehead._

 

 

And they exchange pairs again, and Dismas stumbles away from Raymond to collide with Reynauld’s chest:

“I should teach you to dance…” Reynauld muses, clearly enjoying himself:

“My head is spinning and I’ve had enough of being trampled down!” Dismas complains, though he must confess he has enjoyed swirling around in Reynauld’s arms. The knight laughs, booming and full-heartedly, but allows Dismas to take him out of the dance floor:

“You’re the one bumping on everyone, Dis!”

 

 

_Night arrived and Reynauld began to fidget, nervously, and he looked down:_

_“I noticed you have a stable, can I sleep there?” he asked, and that made Dismas frown:_

_“Why?”_

_“I… I can go back to the manor, if you wish…”_

_“Reynauld…” And the knight looked up at Dismas again. “You promised me a home… but all I have is a house…”_

 

 

The moon shines bright and pale in the dark sky. Everyone is having fun dancing, but Reynauld and Dismas ride back home.

 

 

_And the bed wasn’t that big anymore, with Reynauld’s body pressed next to his. Their clothes stayed partially on, and they exchanged promises and vows and loving words and desires, and Reynauld told Dismas in detail of what the priest had done to him, and Dismas promised Reynauld he would take good care of him._

_And Reynauld was the worst at being responsible for a shop, because he forgot the door open, and thanks to that Marigold came in the next morning, clueless, looking for Dismas, and found the highwayman and the knight sleeping together half-naked._

 

 

Dismas sits on the bed, waiting for Reynauld to take care of his horse. When the knight comes back they kiss, slowly and gently, and pieces of clothes start to be removed. They fall on the bed, Dismas on top of Reynauld, and the knight lets his hands slide all the way down to Dismas’ buttocks. Reynauld grunts in appreciation:

“So, Rey… I heard you said I don’t know how to appreciate the good things of life…?” Dismas whispers seductively, Reynauld’s reward for putting up with Marigold’s mother very present in his mind.

 

 

_Reynauld moved in with Dismas, bringing armour and sword and horse, under the excuse that they were inseparable companions from the Old Road. Dismas accepted to go back training the baronet’s guard, though not every day; he still had a shop to run._

_With Reynauld there, with him, Dismas finally had a home. And they acknowledge they were lovers, and one night, when a snowstorm raged outside, Reynauld asked Dismas if they could make love._

_Reynauld, stripped of his armour, was still an impressive sight, all muscles and scars. And Dismas couldn’t quite believe such a powerful man had chosen him, wanted him, trusted him for something so intimate. Still, the knight was unable to relax completely, his past still too vivid in his memory, though he did appreciate Dismas’ body against his, the slender muscles and comfortable warmth, and he overall enjoyed Dismas’ inexperienced - but loving and hungry - ministrations._

_But they had time now, and all that could be fixed._

 

 

“My love,” Reynauld mutters, kisses Dismas’ head and covers them with a bedsheet. Dismas, comfortably nestled in the knight’s strong arms, hums the exact same thing to Reynauld.


End file.
